I guess i tried to text 911 last night with "someone stole my bong." Thank god that doesn't work...
hey, do you know how many packets of jello it takes to turn a handle of vodka into slutty girls?
Turned out the thing on the lampshade was a bloodstain, not a bedbug. We feel much safer now.
He just showed up to brunch with one shoe and only the battery from his phone.
Why is it that when I sustain a serious injury people are more concerned with my level of inebriation than my personal safety?
Also.. The Hobbit does not look like a cartoon. We were just too fucking high.
Itd be nice if there was a level of interest in me somewhere in between the indifference and obsession that I've only been attracting
you start one little fire by the lake and the police want to talk to you all night...
The real estate's complaint had the words "loud squealing at 2am" in it. Then I remembered that was me spoon feeding you guys old potato salad while you screeched like baby birds. Great night.
Pro tip: if you can avoid puking on your carpet, do so. Cleaning it up is absolutely no fun at all.
How do you clean puke off a stuffed bear?
DO I FUCKING *LOOK* LIKE SOMEONE WHO HAS THEIR ACT TOGETHER!?!? THE ANSWER IS "NO"!
He's literally cuddling with the washer and dryer.
Is texting an old booty call with "can you still get your ankles behind your ears?" an appropriate way to reemerge into the singles scene???
Oral sex and brunch. The perfect sunday morning.
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