I can actually hear my brain cells scream as they die when she speaks.
I wonder what it would be like to go to the dry cleaners and not have to inform them that all my clothes are stained with booze.
I have the Lakers game on, but all I can think about is having sex with you. Not sure what you've done here.
Of course, you get to fuck all night while I'm stuck in the girls bathroom sucking a limp dick for coke
I still love him regardless of his misguided forays into heterosexuality
Another memory: We offered for a stranger to live in our house under the condition that he took the garbage out because it's a 'blue' job.
We are the best.
Ps. We need to take the garbage out.
I fucking love your mom. She's so drunk and fully functional. I aspire to be her one day.
My heart feels like a grape in a barrel about to be crushed into wine
Remember that time a drunk Dracula took a shit in the urinal? Ooh, that's right, it was last night.
Question #1: Why am I on my living room floor? Question #2: Where did the bloody footprints come from? Question #3: Why are there two McChickens next to the wine bottle?
You kept trying to make cocktails with my protein powder last night...
So how do you explain to your boss that Siri called him mid sex?
I may or may not be sitting in a bubble bath drinking wine, watching Jurassic park, and wearing a Russian fur hat.
Seriously, I really just burned my nipple making ravioli.. I'd explain, but no reasoning makes this acceptable:/
So adding to the list of things my boobs can do, sweeping with a broom is apparently a thing.
Randomize
