What the hell am I supposed to do with 50 gallons of mayo?
I'm so excited for this wedding, I feel like a school girl about to get finger launched on the dance floor at the sadie hawkins dance
He is like that thing on the menu you would eat because nothing else looks remotely edible.
you texted me last night and told me you couldn't find the toilet.
That explains the puddle of pee in my closet.
When we woke up, I asked if we could play "what does your name rhyme with".....he said 'bave' thank god it was easy
I'd like to come home and be able to sleep in a bed that's not filled with crumbs from you getting too high and passing out while eating. This is seriously getting ridiculous.
$5 long island pitchers = roommate pissing on his laptop at 3am.
I'm taking it from the chunk of pizza I just pulled out my hair that we ate pizza last night?
Turns out my drunken logic and wordsmithing isn't quite the same as the sober version. I'm pretty sure I made fun of the managers mom at one point
But he made me breakfast and understands the fuck sleep fuck sleep necessities
if by "adventure" you actually mean "getting ridiculously high and shaving our legs," then yes.
I showed him my toy collection and he goes, "You won't need those anymore," and dropped his pants. I threw the House of Pleasure out last night.
"Where are you? Where are my keys? What is this guys name again? Why am I wearing two pairs of your pants?"
Also this time, I didn't have a random creepy guy come up from behind me, grab my junk, and whisper "where's the cocaine?" in my ear. So that's also a win.
But if I live with you I'll help pay rent. Only if you promise no 50 shades of what the fuck internet hookups
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