Not sure what happened last night, but there are four mini bikes outside and some guy is wearing my shirt passed out in the breakfast nook. Won't be telling the grand kids about this one.
I am now Facebook friends with Donkey Lips from Salute Your Shorts
I puked in the revolving door and had to sit down on the escalator. That hungover. It's safe to say people are judging me.
Resolution for 2011: blow jobs are a privilege, not a right.
The goblet must only be used for good. And vodka. And anything t-pain would be proud of.
I'm not wearing underwear, I started my period this morning, and it's super windy. Recipe for disaster?
Ok fuckface listen up and listen good. 1.calling dibs on a chick out of your league is like applying for a job with a highlight video 2. dont fucking ski down the stairs again 3. if you do, put it on your highlight video
you were trying to convince me that you weren't drunk by grabbing my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes and saying "i can see your sparkle"
when the song champagne showers came on you poured some kids beer over his head... while giving him a lap dance
I raided the fridge drunk the same time dad was eating breakfast
Some guy was coming onto me last night and in the middle of it all he said: 'It literally says this on my birth certificate: Francis Coburt: The Guy Who Can Pull Two Beers Outta His Pants Like Magic.'
I specifically remember rubbing my eyes thinking I could definitely go blind and I really like came to terms with it I was like ok my other senses will develop this is fine
he won't tell me his last name, but I know his garage key code
I had a sex dream about Fox Mulder, and the Royals just won the World Series. My life is complete.
Double-fisting ice cream and wine. Do not send help.
Randomize
