What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
she has no idea who harrison ford is.
see that's why i'd never date someone born in the 90s
I tried douching with a turkey baster. Not the brightest idea.
Just took my birth control pill next to the cubicle where we had sex last semester.
Just found an unopened tied g of coke on the floor in her room... she thinks the maintenance guy dropped it earlier today. This takes the cake for sketchiest apartment.
Shirtless guy staggering down the sidewalk, puking into a Prada shopping bag. Ahhh, the walk of shame in Boystown.
You talked the cab driver into taking a shot from your flask at a red light because "Ray Charles would want him to"
She makes margaritas with lemon-lime 5 hour energy..thats brilliant
and you were wondering how she got into Harvard
The number of mornings I actually have to say out loud to myself "you must put pants on and go to work" to get motivated is...troubling.
I never thought I would have to put a band-aid on my penis.
I just set an alarm for 5 am tomorrow morning titled "Wake and Bake Its Christmas motherfucker"
I came home braless and wearing a tail....
I don't suppose you have a recipe for a cocktail made of bitter resignation, regretting everything, poor life descisions and deep-seated self-loathing?
I was actually kind of excited. I mean, how many people can say they've been question by the CIA?
She was pretty impressed that I led all thirty of us back to campus in my state of drunk. Evidently so impressed that she now refers to me as "Moses" in bed.
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