This just in: Jon Gosselin's address-The Alexandra. I bet if we showed up he'd date us.
The only thing I have to prove last night happened is a fireman's hat full of puke.
Theyr drawing diagrams to try to explain to me how high they are
It was like a secret agent hookup. No names, swift execution, get in- get out.
I was passed out on the couch, she literally cut my boxers off with a 8" chef's knife and had her way with me.
My shirt is ruined. If I ever get the idea of doing a tequila shot through my nose ever again, shoot me.
He threw up in a cup in the limo and when he got out the bouncer told him he couldn't bring drinks in so he gave the glass to that dumb girl we brought with us from c street.
I know, she tried to drink it
I'm missing some hair, but it's cool. Breadsticks are done.
God damn. I'm really starting to resent babies. They're everywhere. Like fucking land mines.
I swear to God, if you drunkenly correct my grammar one more time, I'm cutting you off.
I have family pictures in an hour and a half and I'm 9 beers deep. This is how I get written out of my grandparents will...
And my only real exposure to Russian culture is you and Internet porn.
I may be asexual, but I owe you a solid from yesterday. I am a man of my word.
What do you do when you legitimately find a hidden sex dungeon in your parents basement next to your bedroom!!?
Someone made a Christmas song to the Flintstones theme and I'm suing for emotional distress.
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