we're blogging at a bar
I woke up this morning in a strange bed with a kid with an accent playing with my feet.
Going back to my hometown to drink absinthe with highschool boys. Remind me to evaluate this decision tomorrow.
You are the only one who would stop a bum, tell him to open up, then pour straight vodka in his mouth. You made his year.
I'm drinking Leinenkugel through a Red Vine. I'm not drunk. I'm just happy with my life so far.
Gold rum. Strong marijuana. Jabba the Hut in stilettos. Deep thigh bruise. Yes, thal all happened. Sorry dude.
It was like inception, a dream, in a dream, in the back of a dodge charger.
I really really need to have and out of body experience just so I can talk to myself about this shit that I'm doing with my life.
Buying her a drink is like giving a seagull a French fry, all you're gonna do is get annoyed and shit on
I tried to pay my tab and go home but she wrote me a "list of things I'm good at" with fellatio as no 1...
I woke up at 4 am to a guy curled up in the fetal position sobbing in our front yard. Oh college.
I swear if you get so drunk that I have to sing Bohemian Rhapsody to you again to get you to come out of the bathroom I'm leaving you at the bar this time.
I got bit by a peacock. That's how hard shit went down last night.
What is the proper Father's Day protocol when you're sleeping with a guy who has kids?
Do not buy a prego test at the Walgreens you frequent. It's awkward. Just trust me.
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