The cop didn't care that I was peeing on the wall of my dorm building... All he said was, "come on, it's 9am."
Hey man thanks for carrying me in and out of that frat house. There's no I in team.
He says I tipped the waitress ten dollars because she "smelled like pigs in a blanket."
Blackout me just wants to pee on sober me's dreams. Literally.
The closest thing to a sext that you will ever receive from me is a picture of pepperonis on Greg's asscheeks, clenching.
Please stop using me as a reference for bail bondsmen.
And the night ended with some random dude pissing on a car in a vain attempt to find a proper bathroom. We, the drunk, salute you, sir!
She really has to stop the coke at some point. Won't she run out of money eventually?
Won't she run out of nose eventually?
I got his number because he was "impressed with how much I could handle"...I was chasing shots with Olive Garden breadsticks...
My favorite part of you downing a fifth of fireball in my apartment by yourself is the shot glass in the sink. It's like you attempted moderation and were just like "Fuck this."
Maybe they'll dismiss me from jury duty after they smell beer on me. You can't keep me in a cage and then give me an hour and a half long lunch break next to a beer fest and expect sobriety.
You know your life has gone downhill when someone has to preface your night with "don't get locked in a porta potty"
dude, you ran into a window then asked ME what the fuck I was doing.
Hey do you remember me?
You were a giant banana.... how could I forget.
It was an entirely appropriate time and place for sexual thoughts.
That doesn't make it ok to play by play me your honeymoon!
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