doing washington apple shots with my mom. sunday afternoons suddenly got so much better.
I discovered the grieving process is shock, denial, anger...and then something about drinking until you puke on yourself
HE HAS A FUCKING TWIN. HE HAS A TWIN. I'M NOT DRUNK THERE IS TWO OF THEM.
Since you haven't talked to me since the rancid whipped cream fiasco, I'm going to assume we are no longer hooking up. But I need my handcuffs back. ASAP.
I don't know what I wash first. My body or my puke painted car. People are judging me as I drive by.
Maybe we could get a groupon for vasectomy. I'm game.
If 26 stitches didn't sober her up, nothing will.
He's living a porn movie. He's slept with a waitress at her work for lunch, a bar tender at the bar that night, and the cleaning lady the next morning.
When nipples stop being hilarious I'll stop getting them out in public.
You can't give me tequila around boys who have girlfriends. That ain't new.
Sex in your truck helped me start regaining feeling in my jaw. Thanks!
If you could get me there thatd be perfect. I doubt there's extradition on the moon.
I am downtown smoking a joint with Woody Harrelson...Because our car won't start. I will be there as soon as I can.
For the love of god, if any of you are up, bring me pants.
Went online to check my credit card... $147.87 at Waffle House. $632.36 at "Red Rose Gentleman's Club" and a $1000 cash advance from an ATM. I may no longer be a fiancé.
Randomize
