im as drunk as the barefoot contessa. GET TO MY LEVEL
dude. stop pregaming the food network.
Farted during a conference call.SBD. permeated the room people were gonna puke.noone could say anything or leave cus we were on the phone with clients. coworkers were outraged.how I still have a job is beyond me.
I can feel you judging me through the phone.
All I know is that we apparently made a drink we named The Single Girl which is rum, vodka, grain alcohol, and sprite and rolled around in the backyard.
Its 6:30 and I'm shotguning a busch ice while taking a shit. Outlook for work today: interesting
he belly flopped onto the beer pong table, and almost boke his face, so at that point we decided swimming would be safer for him.
Reason 37 booty call break ups suck: I literally could not find his house in the daytime.
My arms are hairy. And so Is my left leg. Just my left leg, the right is smooth.
My mom got me high and then dropped me off at a church.
I've abandoned trying to find a logical explanation of your life.
I told him not to mix beer with his Dr. Pepper...his reply was "i'm a grown ass man i'll do what i want". Judging by the sounds coming out of the bathroom he regrets not listening to me.
It started as ''I want a romantic life right now'' text. It ended with pool table sex.
time out. can we just pause the wholesome understanding friendship thing and be fuck buddies for a night?
we need a secret handshake
I don't want anything calamari shaped after last night. But I appreciate the Cheerios offer.
I've had sex to the movie Tommy Boy too many times to be acceptable.
he drank half a bottle of bushmills, stood up to pee over the side, pissed his pants, sat in the puddle on the deck, told me my life goals were stupid and impossible, and wouldn't leave until 5am. by the time I got up at 8 I had 4 texts and 2 fb messages from him. AND HE STILL THINKS IT WENT WELL
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