My grandpa is talking about laundry and he asked if i could run a "small hot load." Wow. I had to leave the room.
foreplay: 7 minutes. sex: 3 minutes. cuddling: 10 minutes. getting dressed: 5 minutes. commute: 5 minutes.
I just realized that i have never seen about 30 percent of my friends sober before
I woke up laying in alphagetti with the message "I'd go get checked asap" written out in the letters.
my stepmom is let-the-dog-eat-out-of-her-mouth drunk. oh my god.
we just bought Vicodin from the Chinese delivery guy, this day just keeps getting better.
Aparently i was the only guy at her parents bbq throwing up in the pool so Im the asshole right...
Side note... I would pay good money to have witnessed the reaction of onlookers as I sprinted down Armtiage with a 15 lb bag of peanuts under my arm
Cat. Why do you sit on things I need to use.
Because it is cat.
Pre-chapter meeting quote: "Why is there a bun literally taped to the shelf? That doesn't even make sense when you're drunk, who does that?"
He said I took his samurai sword off his wall and proceeded to jump off his porch at people coming home from the bar.
It's accurate though. I am legitimately passionate about pickles. I crave pickles the same way I crave sex. It is a deep rooted animalistic need
another side note: i'm officially selling my underwear on the internet
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT uncuff him no matter how much he begs. He knows what he did.
I also guarantee you multiple orgasams and blueberry pancakes
Randomize
