My face smells like last night's lay. I need a whore bath. Or a corndog.
She's holding my hand. I'm going to kill myself.
You asked the dj to play 'who let the dogs out" because it was your birthday. You left the bar and then re-entered to the song
yeah well we're currently on the phone and she's telling me about how much she misses me and all this shit and i muted myself and i'm watching porn.
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I'm quitting my job and I'm just going to become a professional drunk girls mistake.
Had sex to a Lionel Richie song. I have a feeling I was conceived to it. Finally reached full circle.
She somehow inhaled a tack last night, she's having surgery today.
Yeah, clearly. And then we can float around my room on Christmas themed inner tubes. And drink, I guess.
Just had a 10 minute long conversation with my cat about how if I died, and he needed to eat me to live, I'd totally be ok with it. Definitely still drunk.
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I really resent how she stayed home and ruined my plans to watch sci-fi and masturbate.
So maybe putting the blacklight above the futon wasn't the best idea...
You need to get laid. You spent last night stumbling through the club pulling couples apart and telling them to leave room for Jesus.
Just read the 12 signs you're a horrible roommate post and fucking in your roommate's bed wasn't on the list, so I'm a pretty awesome roommate.
Well I'm missing half a toenail if that's any indication of my night
I bet he’d be surprised by the epic blow job he’d get if he stopped talking about his wife long enough for me to get in the mood
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