On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
Actions speak louder than pants.
We are lost and the only things we have are peanut brittle, cookies and vodka. I think we'll make it.
So the chick throws up over the rail from the 15th floor at the sky bar and I knew I would take her back to my hotel.
"Home for the holidays" isn't clearance to fuck the recently 18 year old high schooler right?
Nope, his last birthday was.
Every concussion has its silver lining
I've got a whole match.com system. Triple book. First dates always get the 6pm happy hour drinks slot. 8pm dinner goes to a girl where I think I can close the deal. 10pm slot goes to the sure thing in case of emergency, but 6 can always trump 8 and 8 always trumps 10. Just blame it on a dead iPhone battery.
That, my friend, is how I bang 50 new girls a year. Not luck at all. It's science and statistics.
I'm drunk in your building find me and we can have sex.
It's a sad day when you can't take off your pants and drink a margarita at work.
I'm tired of being known as the Great Giver Goddess of the Almighty Pity Bone.
I puked and rallied in front of a cop...and then waved at him....
If anybody had to puke on my shoes, I'm glad it was you.
I'd cum everywhere if I could have chicken nuggets right now
I think I'm just going to get a farm, a vibrater, and a lot of wine.
HE’S PUKING UP BLOOD
okay all good I mistook strawberita for blood...
Randomize
