I really wish I could go back in time to change the course of events that led to me sitting on the internet at 3 Googling 'Traumatic masturbation' while talking to you about failed dates, and running a virtual restaurant in a video game.
Our relationship just reached the stage where i can touch her boobs while making a honking noise without getting hit in the face
all i know is that each time we woke up we were at a different chinese restaurant. help.
I know. They started calling me The Incident. The hotel maids, that is.
Her mom is home on her lunch break. Guess who's hiding In the Closet?
She told me my dick looked like a baby seal wrapped in a sleeping bag.
Fire alarms went off at reception of gay wedding im at. We all had to evacuate until FD got here. Then...ill just text the photos.
I need a Jamo leash. Just tie it to my wrist and every time you see me reaching for a shot of it, just yank my hand away
So I'm going to regale you with a tale of someone who went out, was fed way to many shots, got super wasted and now has a date with one of the security guards from the building but has no idea what his name is. That someone is me
I tried to break it off with the married one. He offered to pay off my car.
The side bitch struggle is real.
I wrote myself a letter, like I think drunk me wants to be pen pals or something
New drinking game idea: Take a shot for every republican you see on facebook bitching about the ruling.
I walked outside and found some random guy passed out on our front porch. We managed to acquire the 12 pack of lagers he had so it's all good.
I woke up in his closet, with my shirt inside out and backwards, Rolos in my hand, a tortilla with a face carved into it stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a homemade bong next to the bed, and the door off the hinges... I need a chaperone.
Drunk is a universal language darling
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