Did I get blown in the bathroom? Yes. Did she throw up cranberry juice on my shorts? Yes. Did she finish the job? Yes.
I just heard a girl in all seriousness say, "I told him I'm not a stalker. I just really really want to talk to him."
I don't think I have ever puked up that much free breakfast in my life...thank god for Nickle Beers.
I tried really hard to get you laid last night. And by that I mean I asked a bunch of dudes if they were top or bottom.
I am three bowls, two beers, and a muscle relaxer into babysitting. What are you doing.
You have not lived until you've seen your mother stumble into the house with one shoe on mumbling incoherently about tequila cupcakes.
you know, this Evan Williams whiskey isn't so bad when it's watered down a bit and you're home by yourself on a Saturday listening to Snoop Dog alone in your apartment without pants or any plans for your future...
You said that you were drinking out of a pan, and then went on to apologise to 'Jesus and all the other guys' for drinking on a Sunday.
How could I forget your birthday? I have an alarm in my phone to ask you for sex that day.
whatever the appropriate amount of shots is to consider drunken acrobatics a good idea was a few less than I actually had
you started shaking the frozen steak while screaming "THIS IS CAPITALISM" before rubbing it all over your chest and passing out on your dog
Was I just dreaming, or was there a corpse at work last night?
She was just sleeping.
Is it bad that I'm kind of disappointed by that?
For future reference: bathtub full of cheeseburgers = win.
There's a little game I've come up with since the mess of a party I had; it's called "tinsel or condom wrapper? (or: what's that on the floor?)"
I'm eating cold pizza from work and drinking beer from a wine glass trying to decide if I want to shower or just rub one out and go to sleep. How have I ever gotten laid?
Because you're really hot before taking the time to actually get to know you.
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