What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
I'm to the point in my high that every song eventually turns into Lady Gaga
Dude, just discovered frito and mozzarella nachos. Don't say I never contributed anything to this world.
you cried when she wouldn't let you have her bathroom rug.
He yelled out my full name in bed...I felt like I was being scolded.
you took my bottle from me saying i was unprepared for its magical qualities. then you buckled it in the backseat.
I should also mention that having been a sheltered child, I am conditioned to have serious kinks and find upper bodies of either sex attractive. And legs.
OPIZZABONMYDICK
I'm just gonna go have sex with whom ever is in the men's room.
I bet the guy on the treadmill next to me with the noise-canceling headphones wishes he could trade them for smell-canceling noseplugs. Hard to believe that last one did not involve any pants-shitting on my part.
I just got a lap dance from a kid in the coconut bra... So not drunk enough for this.
I was lying I actually don't, I hope a reindeer shitted in her bed
I also don't hate being called a giant sack of cheese. Is that weird?
After walking ten blocks barefoot in Boston I've concluded drunk me needs to make better decisions.
He was walking around and kept offering the neighbors flamingo lawn ornaments shots of vodka.
Randomize
