I walked into my house this morning to find an 18 pack on the counter. I think that's gods way of ringing the bell for round two.
My psychiatrist is "consulting" others. I am high-achieving nuts.
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
I really shouldn't have to apologize. It was your own damn fault for opening a tab at the bar and telling me about it.
I just watched a guy pee from a second floor window onto the line of 100 people waiting to get in.
Yes, I did know where her mouth had been, but frankly I think it was a lesson you needed to learn.
I'm like the Mother Theresa of booty calls.
Oh my gosh they are following me around the bar
Blow your rape whistle
I gave you head at the stadium on a Thursday night ESPN game. That damn well better be worth points on the score board!!!
I guess I was trying to make a cheese sandwich, I had to change my sheets cuz I slept on it and the cheese melted all over me, Dave, and my bed
I've made friends with the guy dressed as a gorilla that was chasing the guy dressed as a banana around with a super soaker full of vodka. I feel this will be a good relationship for me.
I just remembered you throwing bread at me and getting me to drink water out of a heineken bottle. You are my best friend.
Full disclosure. I fucked the fatty from work and shit is weird now.
Well I took a spicy wing shit in a field this morning.
Maybe I'm not hungover. Maybe I'm actually dying.
Randomize
