You were so drunk you tried to sell your salsa to everyone on the restaurant.
i told him to take shots to cure a hangover and he told me i was "walking the steppingstones to alcoholism"
I kept calling his name while we were having sex cuz i was so proud that i remembered it.
We can smell you smoking weed from downstairs and your little brother is asking why the upstairs smells like gasoline. Please smoke in the basement. XOXO dad.
They live so far away from me that not fucking them both would have been financially irresponsible
Im embracing the luau theme and maybe bringing a kiddie pool filled with alcohol. Im also embracing the high probability I will not remember this night.
I wrote my name on his balls in sharpie. In the homosexual world that's like a diamond ring. Shits permanent.
i think when the guy sitting in the corner singing tells you you're too drunk, you're too drunk.
But see that's the thing. I know i'm better looking than you, I just want you to be continually in a state of shock and awe that you could ever get a girlfriend this hot. You know?
2 reasons we need to wear those onesies to the bar more ofter 1) comfy as shit 2) we both still got laid\n\nHow can you resist that kinda night?
I just instagramed a picture of an ostrich in case you were wondering what I did with my night
The last thing I remember is singing hotel California with a hobo and asking every bald man I saw if I could touch his head.
We're now referring to our nightly Skype time as "strokes of genius." Long distance sucks.
Dude! We had to write our address on your arm in permanent marker so you wouldn't get lost. You just showed the cabbie your arm and he drove you! Nice guy.
The only way he could ever pleasure me is if he lit himself on fire and let me watch
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