It's an Italian thing I guess, grew up on that shit.
I'm Irish, we don't eat cow guts unless they're blended into a fine whiskey
Don't use my boy Weezy to support your whoreish tendencies.
I guess I fist pumped too hard. I hit my mom in the face and now we're sitting in the ER.
When we told the nurse what happened, she replied with "OH, Well you don't look Italian to me!"
I don't know what you're doing, but there's a dragon on my street.
I taped Calvin and Kyles heads together face to face while they were passed out. You should have seen them stumbling around using hungover teamwork trying to find scissors.
You blacked out and walked in on my neighbor breast feeding at 3am yelling "where is my best friend". I think we should go apologize.
It all boils down to, who else do we know that is willing to buy our friendship?
I don't want to hear about you making out with a high schooler. I just had the best sex of my life. My face and arms went numb in the middle of it.
Just got shoved by an Elvis impersonator. Evidently it isn't cool to ask how much of a disappointment they are in the eyes of their parents.
I think I'm making a tradition of going to every funeral with at least one sex-related bruise. I don't know how this happened.
Jesus christ. I put you on speaker when you called me last night and you told me to brush my teeth with a dick.
He made me tacos after the sex. Best date ever!
He's tiny, but ripped. Like a stacked hobbit. He's going to pull our sexy, crime-fighting rickshaw.
The moral of the story is this:the last shot of the night is always a mistake
The night went downhill somewhere between the time I was triple fisting smirnoff and when I was throwing up in the yard in nothing but my bra while he talk to me about mashed potatoes
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