As my groomsman, I expect you to learn the Thriller dance with me before next September.
All I remember from last night is puking up a box of cheeze-its and the building catching on fire.
For a day that started with shitting my pants, things turned out fairly well.
I wanted to dispute a few 411 charges on my phone bill. The service rep told me I called them four times asking for Lady Gaga's number.
Sorry for trying to force you and Robert to make out. I didn't realize how awkward it was until I woke up today.
The first aid guy just told us to go get hammered...I'm taking his advice
I wish a box of wine came w a hose. It'd be so much easier to drink from.�
Listen. I don't care if its "nontoxic" im not putting it in my fucking vagina.
Remember that night I drank a bunch of vodka, pounded your Jameson because 'you were a pussy', punched you in the face and ran off as fast as my high heels could go? It was just my Russian and Irish sides fighting for genetic dominance
You didn't hold all these dicks to become a party planner!
MY WHOLE FAMLY IS TALKING ABOUT MY BUTT
WAIT I'M COMING I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT TOO
I just want to eat Taco Bell and throw it up on his doorstep.
UPDATE: IM NOT A TEEN MOM LETS GO PARTY
You ruined a cute cat because your lack of horniness
its like my accent is a device for a 100% chance of sex every time i leave the apartment. i love being english in this country.
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