i can't put facebook on my resume under hobbies.
I haven't worn deodorant in like three days and have been laying around in my underwear listening to music and drinking. I think i've made my own Bonnaroo in my apartment.
We can make salsa ya know, maybe even some hot sauce. That doesn't mean we're married.
He threw up over the balcony and blamed it on an invisible garden gnome.
The walk of shame isn't so shameful when you do it in a stolen, autographed Favre jersey.
you kept making us tell you how cute you looked in your new outfit, even after you threw up all over it
The camp director doesn't care if we drink and i'm running the rifle range. Someone is going to get sued.
Woke up with a chicken parm sandwich in my clutch. Aaaand I'm eating it.
Didn't get to fuck her. Had to leave abruptly through window. Explain later.
Hate the very realistic pregnancy dreams. Like my dream when I birthed the pirate ships. SO REAL...
After the baby comes, I'll make us White Russians with my breast milk. That will teach her about sharing.
Don't ask me how, but I have a squirrel in my backpack and I don't know what to do with it.
You were sending me snapchats from a bathtub with your beer helmet on and your boobs out.
He yearns for your heart.
He needs to stop being a pussy about it.
Is this really the life I've chosen for myself?
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