Goodnight my chunky, little, marshmallow muncher
I'm having post traumatic stress flashbacks of last night. That big. Don't know whether to call him again or change my name...
I miss the days when all my weekends consisted of were 69 and crunchwraps
Chelsea handler, $19 million - Forbes women top 100. Seriously she shaped her career around her love of vodka. HERO.
She set fire to my carpet trying to power-dry puke covered cigs with Josh's blowtorch. How she found it in the garage is beyond me but if you bring her with you again I'll shoot you myself.
Well were gunna have to wash the couch cover now...maybe even the couch, soap or fire your decision
I mean you can't really blame him. He's named after whiskey and I don't get along with pants.
mate, my mother watched me threw up out of my nose wearing only a g-string.
I've made my dad a martini every night since I was 13.. I got this
She wanted to make popcorn, but the air-popper was broken. So she dumped the entire container of kernels into the clothes dryer. Drunk movie night was a success!
And then after we fucked he wouldn't stop calling me "champ". It was like I had sex with an extremely attractive soccer coach
I asked him to make me two boxes of macaroni and cheese. That's like eight servings. How did I think that was an okay amount.
My 1st STD. I feel like there should be a cake for this.
We should have a mid-burrito sex-break, too. Just so we don't get too full all at once
Good point.
Nah, I was done when the Big Pun lookalike began to sob and tell me I looked like his ex...
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