I just saw an old lady yelling at a dead pigeon for leaving the oven on.
if that dog is afraid of alcohol then he's no dog of mine
From the trajectory of the puke, I must have fallen off the top bunk while trying to vomit, due to the dented bucket, ruined carpet, and bruised dignity I now own.
She kept saying the tortilla understood her. I honestly don't know where she found a tortilla at the pool.
Turned on my GPS and all that it said in the search bar was "beer,"
No more fucking baseball tools. Walk-of-shamed home in only a pinstriped jersey and a Red Sox SnapBack.
Anything you tell me within three minutes of an orgasm isn't even being recorded in my head.
If you asked me 10 years ago where I thought I'd be today, I can pretty much guarantee I wouldn't have replied with "buying hemorrhoid cream on Bourbon St at 7am"
They were arguing about who would hit the piñata first so naturally you tore it open with your hands. You broke the piñata and their hearts.
She's passed out laying in the middle of the street. Cars are honking at her and going around her body. We need to stop playing BONECRUSHER.
She asked me if I would fuck her with my storm trooper mask on
I feel like my foot is being amputated. Or maybe it's the vodka. I couldn't tell you.
how goes living off caffiene and alcohol?
i may have recently shit my pants. on two separate occasions.
I had a good weekend too...although I cried about the dog in a drunken stupor last night...not one of my finest moments, but it's all water under the bridge.
Why is the microwave staring at me?!
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