well yea, now i know i won't get hair in my teeth...
i told him i was sober and he walked away immediately.
So there I was.....spitting on my goldfish just to keep it alive.
She was giving me a handjob while I was wearing a sombrero with a beer in one hand and a hammer in the other.
I'll wind up on his doorstep with a confused "oh you live here" expression, a feigned ankle injury and a seemingly fortunately placed bottle of tequila. I don't care what it takes: HIS MOUTH WILL BE ON MOUTH.
You crowd surfed from beer pong into the bathroom where you spent the rest of the night, also I have your wallet
He said he looked out his window and I was sitting in the grass with blood everywhere talking to a dog.
I forgot drug dealers have families, too. Cheers to a sober, uncomfortable, slightly enraging Thanksgiving.
Hey, thanks for not calling the cops when I answered the door naked, high as fuck, and covered in red velvet cake batter.
He's a real gentleman. At least he tried to flush my closet's handle after he pissed in it.
someday i'll meet a man and who loves me as much as i love getting drunk and starting fires
Philosophical question for you: is it better to go into work slightly drunk or slightly coked out?
I doubt the gods of funday Sunday would exact such a high price... But it's good to know an afternoon with me is worth a left foot.
Also I like oatmeal more than sex.
operation Bang Australian Boy = oh so successful
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