Glad I put on jeans. You could measure my ass sweat with a rain guage.
I love how you send me nude pics of girls you're fucking and name them by which city they're in instead of their name. "This is Nashville, this is Tupelo, this is Jackson..."
our drinking schedule never changed, we just drank at work.
She got her phone back last night. And the first thing I sent her was a picture of me pooping in a culvers bathroom
Brought out my three foot martini glass last night, that explains why I haven't left my bed all day long.
Disregard that. She just puked into her boot and started screaming.
And she was like "I wanted you all for myself, to love you, and treat you like gold."... See this is why I shouldn't fuck Italian chicks...
We just ended up getting drunk and doing field sobriety tests on each for practice... No one remembers who passed.
As if me making pizza in a skillet wasn't enough proof that I was in no state to be cooking, this burn blister on my hand is
It's okay, I found my phone in the toaster oven. Logical explanation: 5 martinis
I learned something last night. Strippers can be on house arrest?
I have to stop letting him stay all weekend. I feel like a cored apple.
Why do I have a vague memory of your entire fraternity climbing in through my bedroom window?
Man. Apparently I blacked out between the 4th margarita and my air mattress. Asleep in my jeans at 10pm. Mom outdrank me again.
I just wanted to check in on you and you replied with a selfie with your Coney Island waiter and the caption "after his shift we're dropping acid together"
Randomize
