I just told my doc I would like to talk about my drinking problem, but that it would probably get in the way of my weekend plans.
my phone is just a graveyard for last nights mistakes. at least it's giving me hints as to where i was though, i'm like carmen sandiego
And then he said "I can't get blown while Gordon Bombay and Mr. Holland stare at me from the TV"
he must have thought the song was "ejacuate on the dance floor"
I dont know if he should be happy or mad about it but he's too big for a blow job.
I listened to the last 10 minutes of that 20 minute voicemail, it's solid gold. At one point he literally suggests we buy tasers and go around shooting people.
I need someone to meet me at the end of the road and throw captain morgan at my face like they do with water at marathons
I created another version of Halloween, it's called swalloween, whatever girl in a slutty costume you bring home has to swallow or forever be known as the holiday grinch
I was looking at your puke while I was peeing in it the next morning and that ceasar salad did not treat you well
Blasting venetian snares and drinking a beer. I love being an adult. It's like being a child but with beer for breakfast, better music, and no one yells at you.
Telling someone to make good decisions on a Thursday is like telling Santa to be Jewish.
Would it be wildly inappropriate for me to tailgate a Jonas brothers concert?
He showed up to a booty call with 2 tea bags, but no condom...
Also I will be receiving my own bra in the mail because I left it at his place, woops
Found like seven bruises in the shower. One was shaped like a hand. Best. Sex. Ever.
Randomize
