Some 6 yr old girl just got on my plane in St. Louis. She was wearing an I Love Canada shirt. She eyed the seat next to me and I stared her straight in the eyes and shook my head. Fuck her. Fuck canada.
No joke. Last we saw of him he was naked and dragging that stupid goat into the bushes.
I feel like if you stuck me in a room with all my old toys it'd be the best high ever.
The goblet must only be used for good. And vodka. And anything t-pain would be proud of.
I'm reciting my presentation (beer in hand) on the porch to a snowmen audience.
She walked in on her brother jacking off and she hasn't been the same since. She's been crying and shaking non-stop. It's been two weeks.
Please come back. She just stuck her bloody band-aid to Zach's face, has a fire extinguisher, and is talking about tornados hiding.
I might not remember all of last night but I clearly remember the part where I humped the mailbox.
and somewhere between crying in her arms and throwing up in her front yard, we became friends.
Does this mean I don't have to apologize for launching about 20 bead necklaces at you from the balcony?
I was wasted and the time changed. I blame the male strippers.
You can see my drunken state get worse with each picture
You know I think I am ok with him not moving in yet. He came over, fixed my closet, ate me out, and left. I'm now in sweats drinking coke and rum and watching new girl. This works for me.
Also the bouncer Straight up told me my id was shitty and I should get a new one. But he let me in anyways because #boobz
Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving like picking cocaine boogers out of your nose at your parents house.
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