I used a bag of wine as a pillow last night.
last night I thought his shirt said yale... but this morning it definitely says old navy.
Ways to know you did something wrong: you sugar-coated it for your therapist.
you were going around the whole club telling people to smell ur purse
I mean, he was my book buddy in 1st grade. The kid taught me how to read, the least I could do was give him head.
Clearly, I'm already going to hell, so there's no point in trying anymore.
at least 'blackout me' had enough sense to take the puke covered duvet off the comforter.
The camp director doesn't care if we drink and i'm running the rifle range. Someone is going to get sued.
I have just figured that it takes exactly 2 and a half rums to clean the bathroom..
struggle bus is officially taking me on a road trip to hell. If this is just the first destination, I'll jump out the fucking window.
Mom and I are both drunk and walking around the Strip. It's like the hangover but with a lot more bathroom breaks.
Ugh why can't people just be grateful for my penis
I need you to ship me a penis cookie care package.
Tip: never mention Guy Fieri during sex
that guy was staring at your tits.
nah, more like they were staring at him, and his girlfriend, and her less than adequate bosom. they pitied the fool.
point taken, oh mistress of the bosoms.
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