I'm ready for my liver to be the last casualty of 2009
Margaritas are 250 calories. Now measuring all food in margaritas
You were talking about masturbating on the phone then said you had to go because golden girls was on then you called me back saying you seen that episode already.
She kept talking about how amazing the banana she had yesterday was. Don't know if it was innuendo, stoned, or just a really amazing banana.
Just once, I'd like to hook up with a girl that doesn't look like she's having a near-fatal seizure when I give her an orgasm.
The highlight of your blackout was when you drunk showered with the garden hose and emailed your boss your vacation requests for the next year.
The engagement ring savings account is now the strippers and gin savings account. What are you doing tonight?
He stopped in the middle of having sex to ask me what shampoo I use. Apparently my hair smelled good
I look like shit btw. Like the joker from Batman.
I'm not sure how that's possible unless you put on face paint. Which I would respect.
And regarding bottomless mimosas stopping at 1 pm, there was a chick who drove her car into the back of the bar. Blame that bitch, not you peeing in the koi pond.
Ran into my statistics professor at the bar, he chugged a car bomb and yelled "x bar mothfucker!". On average I'm loving this PhD program.
I don't know if the puke on my pants is mine or not
And you know what the worst part is? Because of him I can now relate to a goddamn Taylor Swift song. FUCK. MY. LIFE.
Clothing is a burden necessitated by propriety.
A total of 3 guys left my apartment this morning. That was my first clue to my black out endeavors last night. Gotta love wine Wednesdays.
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