What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
It's like trying to pry an octopus off you. Except the octopus speaks English and can get drunk.
I don't have nearly enough visine for the dryness from sticking my head out the window on the freeway for 20 minutes. Child lock me next time.
My friend and I just coined a new term. OBJ. The obligatory blow job. You totally know what I'm talking about.
Like if he goes down on you first, or you just don't want to bone him yet. OBJ.
he made me feel like a shish kabob. his dick was the skewer.
and you said he wasn't worth calling.
He bought me a oreo ice cream cake with "thanks for not calling the cops!" written in icing. If that doesn't sum up winter break, I don't know what does.
Its a little weird going to a wedding where I've screwed the bride and my wife has screwed the groom. Great wedding though.
Straight guys just can't stay away. My penis must have pheromones or something.
I feel like I'm going to get the reputation of being the girl who brings her dog with her to all her random hookups.
You know you're drunk when you're apologizing for your asshole at 4am to the toilet. Eat shit habanero bbq sauce, you've ruined my life.
We both know we're cheating on one another. But our side pieces aren't as kinky as us...so yeah, we're still together. This is a fucked up relationship.
I'm a lady. Ladies do NOT hump the floor.
Pretty sure that I just proved those labels that say "non-flammable" wrong. totally unrelated, We just made your futon fly with a shitload of fireworks
Now i know i wasnt that drunk... So why are there texts of me volunteering for a nude photo shoot for an art major student?
I don't know what she did to me last night, but the scratches on my back indicate that I had sex with a Bengal tiger last night.
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