What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
Party priorities: alcohol > girls > music > cups > decorations
she both took care of me and took advantage of me. it was BEAUTIFUL.
One minute we were getting noise complainted by the security guards the next I was shotgunning a beer with them
I may or may not be taking a bath listening to the Phantom of the Opera. This lovely moment brought to you by xanax.
he texted me at 3am asking for "one of my famous blowjobs"
We interrupt your regularly scheduled Saturday morning programming with this important announcement: you are not the father. I repeat not the father. Congratulations and have a nice day.
I feel like, for the first time today, we had a healthy yolo.
Felt like shit, jerked off, felt ten times better. Being a guy rules. It's like I got all the demons out in 5 minutes.
Is it bad that I don't ask for names anymore? Just added "gold-chain-wearing hotel guy" to my list under "minivan 3way" and "funny-tasting gym guy."
Remember that time I got suspended in eighth grade, well it was like that but I was on acid and wearing goggles
She started throwing ice at me and started yelling, "Holy water bitches! This is an exorcism!"
I miss my teeeeeeeeth. They're in a bag in my hand.
Wasted. And I have 5 pounds of potatoes that I'm responsible for.
we f'd six times
f'd?
its sunday, i cant say fucked
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