Sorry, I don't speak sober.
i walked in and you were spoon feeding your sister grape juice out of a tupperware.
I'm confused about why you felt the need to ask me to buy you life alert for christmas at 3:28 this morning.
We're at that point in our relationship where sweatpants sex has become acceptable...
Was that not clear on Friday when I nearly deapthroated two ice cubes?
You need to braveheart it on Monday. Blue face paint and a loin cloth screaming freedom in your front yard.
Be here at 9 and look fabulous. We have drag queens to impress.
OH AND DAN PET MY CAT WHILE I WAS GIVING HIM HEAD
That's not a funny feeling. That's hepatitis. You got it from that bar where everything was sticky.
There was this blissful moment of peace and quiet... then you ran past our window with a lit firecracker in hand going, "SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!"
Btw, I feel the need to make sure we have no misunderstanding about this. So here goes. I'll happily mess around with you again. However, I probably won't do it while you're dressed like a creepy clown. Or any clown.
I just got a lecture from your coked out sister about the monetary value of Dothraki hair braids. Take her home.
I woke up on my girls floor with a pound of muenster cheese in my shirt pocket
To describe how high he was he said, " I'm cocked out of my ape sandwich" so yes...that was some pretty good weed.
My younger brother asked me "to stop fucking his girlfriends older sisters"
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