Don't interrupt me, I have a limited time to be high and thus be remarkably good at Pac Man
He smothers me through text. I can't even image what he'd be like in person.
They only remember me when they're drunk...I'm like a suppressed memory.
He asked me to touch his mustache. Should I go home with him?
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I mean I woke up wearing my bathing suit which blows my mind
when are you leaving homes?
it's 7:51. why the fuck are you awake at 7:51
I had a sex dream about Oprah.
go back to sleep
dude. it was a sex dream. about. Oprah.
I just got this text "hi this is Julie, I met you last night in the bathroom. You asked me to text you and remind you that you ate an entire lime, because you figured your sober self in the morning would be confused."
and lets be real... who can blow a middle school class's sunday school teacher and keep a straight face ever again? NOBODY.
Met my future wife peeing in the men's room. I stood in for the missing door on the stall. We really hit it off talking about how her butt didn't even touch the seat from all the years of squat lifting in high school.
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It was darkish out, I was shit faced, and they should have marked the electric fence a little more clearly. The entire wedding reception saw me run full force into it
We will. we just need a little inspiration.... in smoke form.
Being hungover in this office is the actual worst. Like they look at me and know I was wasted at 1 am, karaokeing Billy Idol at a gay bar.
I just set up a proportion to calculate how much Jolly Rancher vodka I can make with the limited amount of Jolly Ranchers I have. Finally, real-life application of math.
Just got hit on by a 28-year old, quadraplegic, triple-cancer-survivor redneck. Now updating bucket list to meet newfound standards.
annnnd thats why you don't tip your waiter by flashing them
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