Besides, I'm not in my 30's. I'm still allowed to drink wine from a bag.
Those motion detector trash cans don't work fast enough to catch puke.
Honestly, it's not that easy picking a Saturday night outfit that can translate to Palm Sunday mass. Priorities.
I am trapped in a bar with french tattooed drug dealers who also blow glass art. Just in case this is bad, know what happened.
Someone fucked up, the stop Kony day is on 4/20,
Craig, a bottle of Jamison, and I had a party on the roof last night. No idea how I got down. My injuries indicate fall...
he fed me chocolate as I gave him a handjob. I felt like a princess.
Two options. One, you listen while I freak out. Two, we have mediocre to awesome car sex and don't talk. Either way, I'll be there by 7
If you've ever wondered what a shitshow is, just watch me at the bar on a Friday. Or Tuesday. Take your pick.
You merely adopted the alcohol. I was born into it. Molded by it. I didn't see the hang over until I was a man and by then it was only blinding.
I'm eating your cookies as payment for having to listen to you. Happy sex
So the next time I call you and say I'm going to my first strip club because it's christmas eve eve, and have work the next morning, I'd appreciate you stopping me
You have cats and a ten year IUD. Embrace it.
Pretty sure my boss knows there's Jack smell coming out of my pores right now... He just gave me a look...
Then you guys just all showered together...?
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