We walked through the hotel lobby in slow-mo taking huge steps because we were astronauts, and astronauts obviously can't be drunk.
I think my mom's writing a book called how to fuck with your kids when you know they're high
There's a skull full of vodka. How bad can it be?
I found you laying in the kitchen with a bottle of vodka and a slice of bologna on your face. You said you were having a spa day.
Walk of shaming dressed as a zombie hunter. This hangover feels like the actual apocalypse.
No more vodka shots for you. Last night you begged a man on your knees to sell you his beard. He had no beard.
Thanks for the cold. I shartted and sat through a whole soccer game. James made 3 scores.
He keeps texting me videos of fish swimming in his fish tank, so I think it's safe to say he's back on weed.
Banana suit guy has an entourage and they're all douchebags. There is no god.
In other news, I'm pretty sure my mom was encouraging me to have a threesome yesterday... I don't even want to start digging in that garden of horror and trauma.
When a guy invites you to dinner and breakfast the next day it's implied that he's going to make some sweet loving in betwixt correct?
I don't think it counts as a booty call at 6:30 pm.
Does your drug dealer have a printer I can use??
I've come to the conclusion that my issue is I'm not fucking a guy with a headboard
I'm not 100 percent on this, but I think I just shit a lump of cement. What the fuck happened last night?
Randomize
