i tried to get you to come inside, but you insisted on throwing up in the flowers "because they're pretty."
they were just spraying pledge on themselves and calling it lemon cologne.
it was like fucking with batman, he had gadgets i never even imagined
At first I was confused when I woke up with shards of glass and pickle brine in my pants. But then I remembered I hung out with you last night.
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I would also like to inform you that I can no longer lay on my back because my tailbone is bruised from the nightstand. Good job.
The only thing I really remember is repeating "I hope I still have a job on Monday". Oh and pulling my boob out of my dress.
So I take it the company Christmas dinner went well then...
He told me that "my little fuckpig" was a term of endearment in Britain. I think I'm in love.
I realized I used a copy of a biography of JFK as pillow last night...
Happy Fourth.
It was technically 11... But I go by McDonald's time, if they aren't servin breakfast, it's the afternoon. Therefore I can drink
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Being sober is no fun. Karaoke and not wearing pants are not socially acceptable things to do anymore and this depresses me.
well my apartment and my life are still a disaster but I did clean off my desk so that's gotta count for something...
the cop asked if i was drunk and i responded with "breathalize me, cap'n". incidentally, he was a captain and i blew a .13.
The gate guard just said to me, "I almost didn't recognize you in uniform. Welcome back." I think I need to lay off the booze.
no real plans this weekend. trying to derail the alcohol induced fucking hell train I've been riding for the past three weeks.
sober me needs to have more faith in drunk me.
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