you sent me 5 happy birthday texts last night. one after the other. spelled differently.
Kanye's agent is the only person whose job sucks worse than mine.
I can actually hear my brain cells scream as they die when she speaks.
You were sitting at the bus stop holding hands with some Polish girl you just met, who was just as drunk as you were, and you kept trying to light your Kit Kat and smoke it.
My grandma just told me that she sharted, no I am not having fun in El Paso.
After doing lines off my chest, she said, "do you even know how fast I could suck your cock right now?!!" and her friend said, "yea she totally could".
Same here... Well I was planning on having some sort of deep conversation, but looking at how grim of an outlook tomorrow has on you, I'll just re-inform you that I have your pants.
Even when you're not here I still manage to get pad thai in my vagina
Also got home. Still stoned. Mom was up. We made a pizza and were writing a children's book. Sleep good.
When you get up and look at yourself in the mirror, don't be alarmed. The doctor assured us last night that it looked way worse than it actually was and there won't be a scar when the stitches come out
How have I seen you throw up on yourself 3 different times, yet we weren't Facebook friends until I accidentally hooked up with your ex?
I know I'm going to throw up tonight it's just a matter of when and where
He's tiny, but ripped. Like a stacked hobbit. He's going to pull our sexy, crime-fighting rickshaw.
We both shit in the same closet in Santa Fe. Nothing is sacred anymore.
So I'm trying to figure out how to talk my boss into allowing pajama day once a week. Any ideas?
Randomize
