I thought I drunk dialed Adam last night and left him a voicemail. I just checked my phone. I realize I left a drunk voicemail with my son's teacher.
Some broad at the bar just asked me how much money I make. I don't know whats worse, the question or the answer.
Walk of shame was bad enough, but farting with each step as I walked past his roommates was just not cosmically fair.
I'm so bored, I can only pretend that this truck is a spaceship for so long.
please take me off your list of people to text when you don't want to drink by yourself.
i feel like a lion cub that has been breast fed for years, and mom has left, and now i have to learn how to hunt on my own
Dude how the fuck are we gonna get the lawnmower outta the pool?
I just smoked my last bit of kief with a grill lighter. This is what crackheads must feel like.
Just picture a dyson vacuum with razor blades. That's how it felt.
Brought him brownies before taking his pants off. I'm like the Martha fucking Stewart of booty calls. Walk of shame be damned.
Speaking of fellatio on fictional characters, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man would be a delicious blowjob.
sex on the stairs. not our finest idea.
Putting plan B on my parents credit card wasn't the smartest idea
I only spent $42 at the bar last night, it's some sort of miracle.
you do remember it was dollar beer night, right?
That answers my next five questions
Remember that one time you told the bartender he was fuckable? Well, he's here.
Randomize
