So I have to ask... did I meet your lumberjack expectations? I mean, minus the red flannel and all.
the reason why you were crawling on your hands and knees from room to room last night was because you thought the ceiling fans were chasing you...
that makes sense.
sober me hid the cigs from drunk me. sober me is a tricky bitch.
Just remembered seeing jalepenos in my vomit last night. Reminded me to thank you for sharing your queso with me. You're a good friend.
I don't know which part of you thought this was funny but it's fucked up to wake up in that much fluff and now we don't have a couch. Fuck you.
you were leaning up against the wall pulling your shirt up asking girls to dance on you. your courage to do that is both admirable and frightening.
According to the red cross, I'm not suppose to do anything strenuous for the next 24 hours. That means you're on top.
Why am I the only one golf clapping for the vomiting girl on the train who just fell of her seat into her own vomit
I can't wait til I'm a real grown up and am no longer expected to take 7 shots of raspberry ruby as a pregame to a night of drinking natty lite
So is it safe to say that my only objective from last night is to finish this entire jar of peanut butter?
You were silly, high, and chewing on things.
I just twinged a muscle in my shoulder trying to hug myself. In the world of loneliness-based injuries, this is a new low for me.
I gave her a cheerful high five and she turned to me and said, "we should do that with our genitals." I may have to marry this girl.
I'd invite you over to drink but then I wouldn't be drinking by myself.
Imp drunk. It'd free popcorn tuedday I love life.
Randomize
