I can't go out tonight. I feel like I'm starting to party as much as Farrah on Teen Mom.
Please fuck him. And then let me tell her. And then let me protect you from the knife she pulls from her Ed Hardy purse. Please.
Make sure to show her the sewer we were arrested in on your tour.
Todays life lesson brought to you by last nights half pitchers of cheap sangria: you'll never get the stain or the SMELL of sangria vomit out of your bedroom carpet.
I hope you realize, I'm counting on you as my wingman next semester. It's your turn to advertise another man's penis. I did my tour all freshman year.
The countdown is at hand. We are 15 days from so much Jameson that names will be forgotten. Prepare your liver now or severe projectile vomiting will be the theme of the night.
I couldn't drink enough to fuck the friend, you said challenge accepted and stole some chicks shot.
Its like I've been given a sexual blank check.
Now that it's fall I have to prepare for the imminent arrival of ripped up sweatpants shoved into folded over sequined uggs
It was going very smoothly until she noticed my boner of hope.
While I appreciate the pity sex (seriously, THANK YOU) we should not do it 3feet away from my ex when he's passed out next time. Awkward.
Drunk me started making nachos apparently but never got to the part with the cheese. There are chips everywhere
All I ever wanted was my bed, Tylenol, and total darkness. Instead I had a pervert with porno posters who blares german rock calling me tootsie pop. How was your saturday night?
Juice tastes so weird without alcohol
I did not marry a roomba.
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