Fine. I'll sleep in my office
we got blazed and looked up peoples criminal records
Just to save you guys the surprise, somebody shit outside of our door.
I made out with a bride-to-be last night at the bar. Jesus died for our sins right?
These margaritas aren't just going to regret themselves.
All of our toilets in my house are broken. Thank God I've practiced peeing in the sink enough.
I keep telling myself last night was not real, not real, not real. Then I remember I can't move. This hangover is too fucking real.
Not only is he in the circus, the man survived a near death experience and has an accent. She might as well have found a unicorn. This shit just doesn't happen in real life. Where did she meet this magical creature?
Seriously? We dated for 2 weeks. TWO. And I've crushed his soul and put out the light in his dark world? What the actual fuck.
Yeah, well. That's what you get for dating a musician.
as i sobered up i realized that her cute accent was actually a speech impediment
So basically I really like drugs AND banging cops and it's starting to get complicated
people keep driving by and judging me for drinking natty outside in my underwear at 9 am. rude.
She pulled out a water gun filled with vodka and called it her weapon of choice tonight. She's fine.
I think I just sharted jello shots
I wish he’d realize all I want is dick. He’s my boytoy. He’s a stunt cock. \n\nCome over, fuck me silly, eat some leftovers, fuck me again, then go back to the frat house
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