There are not one, but two women wearing my boxers on the couch right now. You need to wake the fuck up.
Nah it's cool, I made him pinky promise me he wouldn't die if I left him passed out in the bathroom.
apparently you can't crawl through the drive-thru window
I've see this movie. You sext me after the bar and fall asleep mid sentence. Roll credits.
I vaguely remember taking a shit behind the shed before I started puking over the fence. No more Xanax.
I've heard so many rumors about me being taken home in an ambulance I'm starting to believe them.
I just threw up blood. Also i just remembered i got hit in the face with a 2 by 4.
The only thing I remember is doing a toddlers and tiaras dance routine onstage. I fucking CURTSIED.
OMG stop. Pretty feet? Sparkle baby!
It's that moment where you find out the girl you've been dating for 6 months is a mob daughter. Post breakup.
That's not a funny feeling. That's hepatitis. You got it from that bar where everything was sticky.
Send me one of your boob pics as an example. I mean this in the straightest least lesbian way possible.
You know I'm dangerous when I have make-out withdrawals
I'm wearing a fleece onesie eating pop tarts on the train to work. Killing it.
That reminds me of the morning I woke up on the sidewalk covered in chicken wings
I was just giving a mobile app demo to a client, on my iPhone, when a reminder alert appeared across the page blinking "12pm: go home and give John head". You're an asshole
Hahaha oops.
Randomize
