Roman Polanski is more welcome at my daughter's birthday party than you are at that bar
On my way back to his place to see his "art". Why am I sure this is going to be nothing more than his dick in a box?
I don't know what to be prouder of: the fact that last night i was able to successfully find my way home from evanston with 3-d glasses on, or that i was able to make my way around my house in the dark with my pants around my ankles
I found a fingernail in my vagina. A fingernail.
We'll I told him I wanted to keep it PG last night, but then later I asked him to take his pants off. So i'm guessing it was my fault.
Nothing bad can happen when you have a kiwi flavored condom. Absolutely nothing.
Nothing motivates a person to clean their apartment like puking up cheese ravioli beer-tequila chicken wings for eight hours.
my last clear memory of the night was being offered a shot but having so much alcohol in my hands that someone literally had to pour it in my mouth for me. after that it pretty much skips to waking up face down and shirtless on my floor.
I have no inclination to even want to think about what God's existential meltdown is going to be like. O.o
He tried to break dance on the island in the kitchen and ended up knocking over everyone's alcohol onto the floor then yelled "GUCCI" before vomiting
He wrote on the bartenders notepad "phone?" So I wrote back "911"
I'm the only person I know who could have actual sex and then dream about my vibrator.
Next time I pee on a car, I'll text you.
the police dropped me off. that's how my night went.
I told you that you couldn’t eat fifty tacos, you slapped me in the face, ate seventeen tacos, and fell asleep on my floor
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