you were carrying around a glass of vodka telling everyone it was Russian water
his blackberry tasks were 1. take names and 2. kick ass
I'm going to pre plan my black out tonight. I think I'll set a change of clothes out on my bed and unplug the oven.
Remember when you tried to pay that stripper to cry on stage?
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it had something to do with pool sex.
My penis has a 100% approval rating. He has never received a formal complaint. If you'd like to file one, you can go fuck yourself.
Why are you speaking in third person?
Because I'm so hungover that I don't even want to be myself anymore.
I have a breathe right strip stuck to my forehead, several inexplicable bruises and I think someone tried to paint my nails with glue, but I still have my Santa hat. I'm gonna call this one a success.
He managed to crash an entire train of shopping carts into a wall. I think he noticed my implants.
The front camera on the 5S is SO much better. This is great development for my international sexting.
Don't let me publish my memoir unless "hurt my ankle drunk irish dancing" is at least the title of a chapter because that is really the whole story of my life.
He was basically a horny puppy - following me around all night and kept sticking his hand down my pants.
Someone needs to lock me in a chastity belt because all my vagina does is get me into trouble. Fuck.
Moral of the story - don't craft naked. Your nipples with thank me.
My breath smells like dick and biscuits..
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