Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
Is it really that bad? I heard it was like pooping. I like pooping.
I probably should have cut it off when he started putting queso on my nipples, but within ten minutes I was a self-serve burrito bar.
I blacked out before two in the afternoon yesterday. Now that's a successful birthday.
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...But it's not like we would be the first people to pay for an abortion with student loans and cell phone rebates.
Europe's "the final countdown" was playing. It was pretty much amnesty for anything that might happen the rest of the night. It's a rule.
I pissed myself at the bar so I threw away my wet underwear and kept partying... you act you've never done that before
I'm smoking a bowl and pondering why we haven't discovered teleportation again.
You need to braveheart it on Monday. Blue face paint and a loin cloth screaming freedom in your front yard.
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My new hangover cure is going for a haircut, just so the stylists give me a scalp massage during the shampoo.
That certainly explains the nine times your hair has looked different just this last month alone.
It's not an office Christmas party until your boss confesses his undying love for your boyfriend...
Up until today, I never would have thought I'd have to tell someone not to color on the cat
Just went to my first strip club and they had Fox News on. Conservative booty time.
and Katie got too high with the tow truck driver and wants to go home
I had sex in the bed of a guy who owns a house last night so I feel like this is a significant step up from car sex in the parking lot of a library
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