how the fuck am i supposed to make breakfast with spaghettios and mustard
I feel like i'm in "To Catch a Predator - The Musical"
theres no point in washing my sheets anymore. its always going to be a fine layer of booze and semen.
I like how washing the beer bong is now a regular part of washing the dishes.
So apparently after he gets hammered, falls down a set of stairs and gets a concussion, he can still come home and find a way to play his guitar solo bullshit as loud as possible while i seduce my date...
Apparently I was trying to convince him Springsteen has had buttsex. I ended the argument with "I bet he came from it too."
I tipped the hot bartender my entire wallet. Again.
I thought your voice was coming from the walls. I've never been so relieved to find you naked in a closet
I think I might be drunk enough to cut my own hair
If the cops knock on your door and ask if you saw anyone throw an orange out the window I was never there.
I have a kicked-out-of-multiple-bars level hangover today
When asked if they had been introduced, Damo said "No but I know we've pretty much fucked all the same girls in town"
it's just weird to think of you as a teacher since ive seen you throw up raspberry bacardi in my parents house
Also not to brag but I got high last night and got us a host family in a chateau in the south of France
I found the guy I hooked up with last night on Wikipedia, at least now I know how old he is.
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