Some broad at the bar just asked me how much money I make. I don't know whats worse, the question or the answer.
New requirements. My future husband must have a nose ring and wear headbands.
We are no longer friends.
I'm starting to think The only feelings I have anymore are drunk and hung over
you can't hurt those
I know I'm all grown up when I don't have to take my pregnancy test in the store bathroom anymore.
I asked her if she wanted to make this a permanent exclusive thing instead of a fuck buddy thing, and she just looked at me like I'm an idiot.
That's because you are an idiot.
We'll both be dead in approximately 72-96 hours, with you bringing your liver out of retirement again, Favre.
Somewhere between yelling how am I gonna make it to my flight and more titie shots I stopped caring
I shouldn't be home alone with this much peanut butter and the dog. I feel like i'm being recorded to see when my desperation will peak.
He's talking about how great of a find these dollar store condoms were. Help.
I just realized the only way to play Edward forty-hands is commando in a skirt. This intelligence kick is really doing me justice.
I hope you get eaten by satanic starfish.
What's life without a pregnancy scare?
I was so drunk at your wedding that Uber is now showing up in my Spotify recent searches.
He nailed that bed down really well so it won't break again. All I could think while he was nailing it was "challenge accepted".
There's a fuckload of syrup all over the floor.
Randomize
