What happened last night?
You soiled yourself again and told everybody that you'd given birth.
like in an apt above a crackhead. A LEGIT CRACKHEAD. he woke me up every morning this week asking me if I wanted to buy a mini fridge and some CDs. at 5 am. EVERY DAY.
Your wedding's just one more day in my life I can't wear sweat pants.
I'm a gay man planning my brothers bachelor party, and he choose someone else to be his best man. I hope they like appltinis and gay clubs. Bastard.
Plan: drunk dancing. Reality: drunk almost getting in fights with people that could beat me into the ground.
Is it bad that I don't ask for names anymore? Just added "gold-chain-wearing hotel guy" to my list under "minivan 3way" and "funny-tasting gym guy."
your ability to divide cases of beer among any given group of people equally was missed.
Guess what I signed up for?!?!?!
Please tell me you're not selling your eggs.
Dropping acid was like seeing the whole world as a blank canvas to imagine anything I wanted.
And apparently all you wanted was to watch the sun explode and me take 60,000 dicks to the face.
Life Goals: never under any circumstances, pee in an elevator again. No matter how drunk
she was puking nonstop out of the car window in the rain during our hour long drive back, we got lot of honks
George disappeared two hours ago with a stripper named "delicious." Haven't seen him since
Im including "no monologues past 1am" in the list of apartment rules. Theatre majors dude.
At this point in job hunting, I'm willing to become a leather daddy if it means some sort of income.
we finally found him at 2 am. he was 3 miles from the house and tried running into the lake when he saw us pull up. i don't think he'll be taking ecstacy again any time soon.
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