Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
I am tired of kissing girls with mustaches.
he's dressed up as spiderman, i don't understand why he's crying.
and apparently i was drunk enough to follow up with "I'd let me touch your boobs" ... not my best line.
They found an open window, climbed through and proceeded to arrest half the party. These campus cops are like fucking ninjas.
i am literally watching eva make a trashbag diaper for you to sleep in tonight. whole new level of low for you.
Hangover cure: shower, throw up again, sleep for 4 hours, eat salsa, brush teeth. Good to go.
i distinctly remember leaping through the apartment to rescue the clam chowder burning in the kitchen
I'm sorry for not being sorry about whatever shit I did to you when you were annoying and I was drunk. That is all.
Dude. My knees have no hair on them and they're bruised. My thigh is killing me. I have about 1000 texts to about 5 exes which I horribly regret. I have pictures of my own penis on my phone. I can't find my iPad. And I have work in an hour.
She deserves a chance to suck my penis. This is America. Its her God given right.
... drunk me broke the coffee table?
STOP TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON. YOU DID THE THING.
Bring vodka when you get back from court.
I yelled at your uterus for you.
Dude we were sitting at my place stoned as fuk then someone knocks on the door and it was my neighbor giving me a huge box of cookie dough. Magic of weed.
Randomize
