Job is the problem. Drinking, the solution.
His ankle bracelet only gets in the way when I'm trying to take off his pants.
well after this past weeked you can expect to see me on maury playing a little game called "who's the father"
i feel as uncomfortable as your camel toe looks.
This bitch flirting at the bar needs to close her legs and open up a book. I can literally feel my IQ dropping every time she bends down to show her tits.
Jealous?
Very.
Seriously this night has "go home now before you cry, puke or scream on someone" written all over it.
No clues in my phone. Only dialed call: my own social security number. And that was before 10:00pm.
I left a care package of Jack Daniel's, pancake mix and porn in your apartment. Merry fucking Christmas.
They should really start adding the average cost of day drinking to our cost analysis sheets. Does FAFSA cover this? No. It doesn't.
also I woke up naked and covered in water but nobody can explain that part.
This morning I woke up in the entrance of a retirement home. Memory fragments from last night: making it rain with the contents of my wallet over the bridge, getting hit by a car, and a lot of running.
We celebrated our relationship by shotgunning beers on his lawn in our underwear. I may have to marry this man...
I think I died and satan has brought me back to life and I'm paying for my sins with this hangover
she told him my safe word. I'm gonna casually work it into conversation and at him suggestively to see if he realizes i want to have rough sex with him
Southwest doesn't have zingzang bloody Mary mix. I'm gonna file a complaint with the FAA
Randomize
