I typed "housewife" into monster.com's search engine....I got zero results...kinda bummed
I don't know what you're doing, but there's a dragon on my street.
we found you eating frozen orange juice with a spoon and then drinking vodka from the bottle.
Drunk. I slept-stripped.
By myself.
I can't. I can't get out. He cooked me food. And made me jager bombs. And painted a glow in the dark smilie face on my boobs
We left an ass print on the piano.
Well, I looked over and you and him were each making out with a fireman. And then you switched. And you probably spent an hour like that.
all I wanna do is swim in an Olympic sized pool of Gatorade and tylenol.
New justification for blow: drug week; 'how it's made'
all law school has taught me so far is how to fart quietly during lectures and how to out-argue the ice cream guy when he screws me out of extra toppings.
I told you, she may have multiple personality disorder, but like in the most upbeat way possible.
DONT TELL ME I CANT HAVE AN ENTIRE BOTTLE OF VODKA AT DINNER. IM AN ADULT. I PAY BILLS.
Im blaming it on six shots of Jack, loneliness and a chemical imbalance. That's the best I can think of...
And god said thou shalt never deny free booze. And it was good.
It seems that I didn’t convey clearly enough how well and truly fucked we are, Jack. Listen to me very closely: we are DEAD.
Randomize
