I walked in on him cutting a hole in the condom.
I just found a bottle of gin in my vegetable crisper. Party is back on.
Just got a voicemail from a guy referring tp himself "as chest hair guy". If I'm coming home to a intervention I understand.
At second job interview this week. Wearing pants to hide pole dancing bruises. This my life.
Just know I'm having fun but I still have my motor functions.
No, they seem attractive after SIX beers, after three they're just the gender you're looking for.
I'll explain later but basically I was feeling dangerous, I'm dressed as Ann Romney and Ann Romney is a bad bitch.
I'm drinking coffee out of a pasta sauce jar and eating fruit soaked in Smirnoff. I think I've hit rock bottom.
I've spent my afternoon dipping strawberries in DayQuil if that's any indication of where I'm at in life.
I learned a valuable lesson about combining day drinking with malt liquor: you may think you have super powers, but that's just the Steel Reserve talking.
It's official: I now only own one pair of jeans that I haven't blown the crotch out of. It might be time to put a stop to red wine Wednesdays.
You mean, in addition to red wine every-fucking-days?
there were rolls with just one bite out of each one leading to the bedroom. you were laying on the bed naked and yelled 'you did it you followed the bread crumbs!'
we should paint friendship bongs
I'm at this party and a blind kid just walked in and asked "where is the fucking pong table"
Must lick fork, like it's a DICK
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