Somewhere in this world my second husband is in 9th grade.
So we were banging and she started puking all over my bed. I'm not sure what's worse, her puking, or that I felt the urge to start singing Flip-adelphia.
When the cops came you just told them you'd go to your time out corner.
You are so lucky that drugs are going to kill you before I do.
So as your former husband, I get to give you away at the wedding right?
Yes. Be the home wrecker you've always dreamed of being.
did i send you the picture of me smiling with the magnum wrapper?
hoooly shit dude in taco costume challenged alpha douche to a fight. he's got catch phrases. come. now.
After that song played in the club all he kept drunkenly saying was "Birdman goes brrrrrr"
I'm going to miss recovering from hangovers on the beach. Rolling around in my dorm bed and watching Friends reruns is just gonna feel like slumming it.
You can fuck right off with that, "If the earthquake isnt bigger than 5.0, we native Californians dont get out of bed." I am from Chicago. I can handle freak flash floods, polar vortexes and tornados. But my bed violently shaking at 6:30 in the morning is cause for some understandable concern.
How does a face ride mean we're back together?
Those nachos came to me in a dream
I can empathize with sociopaths, serial killers, demons, gods, and monsters....straight white males are literally the only barrier to my 100% empathy rate. I don't get it.
There is an episode of "how it's made" on tv right now. The subject is tequila and water beds. Basically my life.
Randomize
