I'm at the house listening to vengaboys alone. Please come home.
I just wanted to say sorry for trying to jack off your dog last night.
The only thing that would make my night better is if William Shatner came and read me a bedtime story.
This guy just brought his piggy bank into the bar with him. Talk about corruption of childhood.
I may have been hammered and in a wheelchair but I definitely remember asking the hospital reseptionist to marry me
He was sitting cross legged outside his tent repeatedly hitting the ground with a hammer and shouting 'this.is.a.good.idea.'
I told her she can't come to our bonfire because she throws up on herself & she has a mustache. And now apparently I'm a bitch or something.
I'm eating my emotions. I am no longer interested in anybody other than my own hand and vagina.
On a scale of zero to "unmitigated disaster," how drunk is he?
eating chex mix on the couch when he walks in naked and asks how he looks. are you shitting me.
Henceforth: booty calls will now be referred to as "deliveries of anatomy". That is all.
I woke up with a dread of barbecue sauce in my hair. Drunk munchies makes me a disgusting person.
If he sends me a dick pic so help me god.
mid-sex she goes "oh my god. you aren't even going to remember my name in the morning, are you?". And i was so wasted that i straight up told her "honestly, I don't even remember your name right now"
So, my first week in Saskatchewan ended with me drinking moonshine and getting eaten out in a tractor. I already love it here!
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