Last night is one of those stories you hear about on 20/20 right after they make a law banning 90% if what I did.
Me too. I'd like to spend all next summer high and drunk and riding ponies and boys.
i wish you could fill a pinata with booze
dude, never take two tylenol pm and smoke three bowls. i feel like i'm covered in cold ants.
i grabbed his hand and told him i loved him and then he looked down and said "i love...mallomars" and shoved like three in his mouth. never been so embarrassed.
so i wake up and the chick who i had sex last night left her phone number. next to the number was a broken condom. should i call?
I've decided to tape numbers to the bottom of my heels corresponding to the number of drinks I can safely consume in them.
Your expertise in crazy bitches is needed.
That last minute feeling of hesitation on whether I should bring my health card to the bar usually means I'm in for a good night.
When i'm home next we need to get baked and go to waffle house. I want to see if the waitress can still guess my intoxication level and what i'm about to order before i even make it to the table.
Buying the inflatable beer pong table for the pool was one of the best investments I've ever made
she definitely didn't appreciate it when you justified bringing her home by yelling to me "fat bitches need love too"
You added his wife on Facebook?! You're horrible at this mistress thing
Good News: There was a condom on the floor. Bad News: It was still in the wrapper
I'll be naked. By 11. Then arrested. Drunk tank adventures
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