Thats the last time I go out drinking with my Irish friends. Two shots of flaming sambucca = bar on fire. I was only trying to high five the barman.
pop tarts are not kleenex
I don't care if he acts like a don't exist 6 days a week. On the 7th day he makes makes my vagina cry. In a good way. Jesus understands.
My little brother got home at 4am too, we drunk ate together. It was a kodak moment.
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Nobody is here, I still yelled for someone to make me some toast. That my dear is commitment to doing nothing.
This weekend has taught me that sometimes, being buried under a mattress is the safest place in the room.
Would you be mad if I just used the argument "I'm allowed to say that, my best friend is a lesbian"?
Never. I'm proud to help you win arguments.
God he's so convenient, drugs, an parties all in one person. He's like the Walmart of delinquency.
The two of us decided to throw a spur-of-the-moment parade and the next thing I know we're 4 miles down the road being followed by 65 drunk strangers
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I have straight up perfected the art of amazing manicures with shaky-as-fuck adderall hands. Also, I'm way too proud of this.
my human sexuality class is the only class where the porn i watch the night before is relevant to the discussion the next day
I was figuring I'd break up with her after work, but before Taco Tuesday
I was amazing, unlike anything he's ever experienced. I somehow made him feel young and old.and he never felt old before. He feels I will literally kill him. With my magic, lethal vagina.
You set fire to his cat.
In my defense, I did not think it would be in the trash bag.
Also, you fell asleep with you hand on and around my cock last night.
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