On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
I'm not a creep or anything, just a lost soul looking for a good lay
I think "banned from Amtrak due to excessive projectile vomiting" would sum up the evening quite nicely.
judging by my wet hair I would guess I showered at the bartenders apt last night?
The difference between you and me last night was that I didn't remember getting into the cab and you didnt know we were in one.
After your mom took her 12th and fatal tequila shot she proceeded to fall head first into the bonfire... Guess I don't have to fear getting old after all
I can't find my underwear or one of my shoes but he baked me cookies for breakfast.
You then proceeded to tell me how good of a cook you were and put raw cookie dough in the champagne.
We attempted to microwave fifteen corndogs in the microwave and may have ruined it. Also there were fake mustaches on all of his appliances...he said he doesn't like drunk me.
Nothing is worse than post drunken playoff baseball loss sex
Hey, don't think you remember me but we met last night. I'm conducting a survey this morning its only one question: Have you seen Rob since 1am?
I'm spending tomorrow doing taxes and making jello shots. Is this adulthood?
After we hooked up, his roommate shouted "I LIKE TO HAVE SEX TOO" from across the apartment
Nothing says you made great Saturday night choices like someone's dick that you don't remember, poking you in the ass Sunday morning.
so i was thinking... those 6 am shots weren't really needed.
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