I am officially out of liquor stores within a 15 mile radius that don't recognize me as soon as I walk in the door.
I'm wearing boardshorts as underwear to work. This is bachelorhood
the elusive kegmastree, who's mystery is only exceeded by it's power
Nothing says happy baby shower like showing up still kinda drunk from last night with an open tall boy in one hand and fries in the other.
Hey, can you come over and kill me real quick
Just sharpening my eyeliner with a butterfly knife. You know. Typical weekday morning.
my taxi driver is listening to 50 shades of grey audiobook. this is uncomfortable.
Also, upon examining the photos, I have concluded that you were the sloppiest drunk girl of the night. And that's saying something considering Hurricane Jessica was in town.
I would come over if there was not the impending fear of me shitting out my brains.
I would just like to point out that someone I had sex with drove me so I could have sex with you. I deserve some type of "most loyal booty call ever" award.
Maybe if he'd step up his game and get a real job instead of donating plasma and trying to grow pot then you wouldn't feel compelled to write prisoners in Oregon.
I've already come to terms that I'm gonna have to bone a few gross librarians, but hey, it's college
Basically I think I'm replacing men/sex with theme parks.
I would be down to associate sex w taco bell
It is getting ridiculous, the elaborateness of the schemes I have to concoct so my suitemates don't know I'm pooping.
Randomize
