I've been reduced to Capt. Morgan and Golden Girls reruns. Ugh.
Fat chicks shouldn't bartend
The last thing I remember is you asking me how to grow french fries.
we need to find that guy that whips out his cock at the bar again
I'm not embarrassed about the lap dance. I'm embarrassed for the singing during.
I sat in the bathroom on the counter and gave out advice to all the random people that walked in
Nothing will ever prepare you for the moment when you are sitting on your friends bathroom floor with no pants on eating string cheese & pita at 2am.
THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CAPSLOCK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD TO EXPRESS MY CURRENT STATE OF WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED
I just really hate taking care of things... If I can't fill it with liquor I'm not sure what to do with it.
I want Walter White to make me a bologna sandwich while I'm chained to a support
I'm standing on the corner in a banana costume and cape with frozen bananas in my utility belt reassessing my life decisions.
I wish I could send you one of those donuts I had. Like teleport it to you. Because it would change your life
Drunk me bought a cell phone last week and began texting sober me. The conversation between the two is still on going.
After this weekend, all I can think about is bald eagles flying in front of fireworks and giving birth to fucking uncle sam. Also, beer.
Does sending her to the conference instead of a competent employee and putting her in a suite make up for banging her husband behind her back?
No, but she’ll have a nice memory when she gets dumped and fired on the same day.
Randomize
