Just got a script for 120 vicodin with 6 refills. I feel like michael jackson.
I could make treat bags
She can't drink and she can't smoke weed. She might as well be dead to me.
she used her one phone call to ask me about my day
I threw up in the bar parking lot and yelled THIS IS MY FUTURE.
Woke up next to a tiki torch spooning a plastic flamingo on a welcome mat i've never seen before with a "happy valentines day" balloon tied to my wrist, oh yeah and "i am a cougar" is written on my chest in sharpee and all the kitchen furniture is upside down...
She showed up in lingerie and a turtle backpack full of bacardi. I think its love.
For our final psych experiment, we're conditioning Tim to hump the nearest inanimate object and/or person every time he hears a Ke$ha song
He is what would appear if the douche troop all had rings and we summoned someone like the Captain Planet kids.
No I did not just post a Craigslist ad for a used stripper pole because I can't afford my own. But now that you put the idea in my head I might have to.
I figured working in my office on the 34th floor I'd be safe railing xanax off my desk. Of course, I snort it just in time for the window washer guy to give me a thumbs up.
Dude. That Grinch had his priorities right when he was worried that there might be a cash bar at that town celebration.
I guess "hi, I know your mom, she taught me in high school" is an effective pickup line
Twas still the Saturday before Christmas \nAnd it’s still fucking snowing\nAnd Steve wished he slowed down \nOn all the fucking drinking
I love how when he said ecstasy pills both of our heads whipped around like a couple of horned owls.
I don't want a big night. But I am okay if we wake up in a penthouse at Crown Casino.
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