its 10 pm and i am cleaning vomit off the ceiling. i am nowhere near drunk enough for this to be funny.
I think i just got paid for sex with a hot pocket... and i accepted
And there I was, sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, my fingers covered in peanut butter.
Dude. The girls called me over to see what they had in their dorm. They snuck in a pigeon in a cardboard box. They named it Quincey. They swear they're sober.
I'm wearing red that night.
Noted, what shade?
Whore.
It's 11am on 4/20 and I'm already in urgent care.
Bad news: I found out that girl you want has a boyfriend. Good news: she'll probably cheat on him with you. Better news: after seeing the way she treats him, that's the most interaction you're going to want with her anyway. Trust me.
She's planning a December wedding, I'm planning on a June breakup.
How many more times can I say I need to get laid before you kill me?
I DID NOT GO INTO HOURS OF STRENUOUS LABOR FOR YOU TO LOOK LIKE A DOMINATRIX BARMAID ON A WEEKDAY. AT LEAST SAVE IT FOR THE WEEKEND GDI.
I don't remember much, but I remember he called me the dick whisperer, so it must not have been all bad.
But seriously, I love having sex with you and simultaneously know I never wanna date you.
million dollar idea: razor dispensers in bar bathrooms. your welcome, girls who didn't think they were getting laid tonight.
Maybe the "i killed someone" and "tequila makes my clothes come off" comments freaked him out.
Guess who just stumbled into work hungover, wearing yesterday's clothes, covered in hickeys and glitter, and carrying a giant bottle of rum in her purse.
I just took plan B at work.
This is the greatest story of all time.
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