I was pretty stoned. I thought I needed a seatbelt at the restaurant.
I just withdrew $200 in ones. I think the teller knew what was up
im the poster child for why you shouldnt play beer pong with wine.
Due to our sore throats we are now doing bong hits with cranberry juice to sooth it.
I was ready to fuck him until he pulled the "I might be bi curious" card. Now its turned into a guilt fuck. It's like he's a 3rd world child in need of a sexual orientation.
I mean it's not my fault he had a floor mat that read "put out or get out". What was I supposed to do?
I'm not drinking anymore...and by that, I mean until St. Patrick's Day.
Im eating these cheese filled pretzels. So good. Theres jizz dripping out places i didnt even know i had.
I'm pretty sure at any given moment you could wring out my liver and get a couple of shots of jäger.
Wasn't his fault he kicked a hole in the wall, they should have never tried to give him a bath after tequila.
Some crack addled fool from the sketch ass motel behind the restaurant just gave me a flyer for an AA group when I was on my smoke break. I don't do mornings
I spent most of the stoned conversation with my dad proving to him that the Newfoundland is an actual dog and NOT a Snuffaluffagus-esque figment of my stoned imagination, while laughing over the fact there is actually a place caller Dildo, Canada. Have YOU taken time to be a good dad today?
Please come collect your inebriated significant other. He just sleep-farted and scared my cats. Please hurry.
There is a midget in cheetah face paint on a leash here
He kept saying "Ayyyyyyy" during foreplay... during sex.... during everything! It felt like I was having sex with friggin Fonzie from Happy Days!
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