Getting paid to poop is the only way to go through life, you guys.
Sooner or later we all fall victim. That gnawing self-doubt in the back of our minds feeds on anxiety.
You may not have a lot of money, but you do have a $2 bill.
It’s the inevitable peak of drunk talk. A lull strikes your highly cerebral discussion on fantasy football and girl butt.
I will beat this dead horse. I will beat this dead horse until it’s nothing but a tender pulp ready to meatballed into delicious treats
On paper it’s a total mismatch: a man trying to chat up ladies in a sanctuary of physical fitness.
Her birthday party is WHERE?!?!
Marked by relaxation, minimal hygiene, and expressing time in beers consumed rather than hours, the cottage lifestyle is a true slice of paradise.
Much like first dibs on lifeboats, emoticons are a thing for women and children. Text already speaks for itself; that’s the entire point of it.
“Hey, I wonder what we’d all be like in public as a big, drunk crowd.” AWESOME, that's what.
The game is the game; customers gonna bitch and waiters gonna hate.
Drinking games and summer go together like drinking games and summer.
Let's buy other people's junk!
It won’t be fun. Stop it, really; you’re not going to pressure me into this.
If you're going to Home Depot, one thing is for sure: you're in for a nice little Sunday.
Cathartic, sloppy, and often unexpected, yes, puke is one of life’s fun surprises.
Vital information to get you through your life.
Oh God, the power’s out.
Through similarly constructed and always seemingly serving as a burrow for drug addicts and the mentally ill, all boardwalks […]
Mismanaged expectations are the root cause of all life’s aggravations. You expected better than lukewarm meatstuff on an old gritty bun?
Once I pass through this entrance I’ll have crossed a threshold into a realm devoid of practicality, human decency, and full-priced merchandise.
I’ll always enjoy that intoxicating sound, that hollow, muffled, plastic-on-plastic noise, that’s promptly followed by cheers and high fives.
Forging through the freak show of decrepit power-walkers and horny skateboarding preteens, I’m diligent to avoid eye contact with any of these human disasters on
Customarily, there’s at least some trust between you and any new drug dealer; it’s no different than starting with a new doctor, therapist, or Cabala
The temperature’s up, the homeless have emerged from hibernation, and the living’s once again easy—yes, summer is just about here.
Bathroom sex, GET SOME.
Silent, sad, and shoveling cold scrambled eggs into my face; I’m sprawled across the apartment couch, surveying the summative damages in the unforgiving light of
It’s a sinking feeling, but I’m not on a roller coaster, stuck on a shipwreck, or battling vertigo.
Standing in my bathroom, I was starring back at true unhinged incompetence in the mirror.
Welcome to the filth party. Come on in; the water’s great and the standards are low.
My life lacks anything resembling ambition, yet, it doesn’t matter how engrossed I am in a Maury rerun or how diligently I’m not applying for
The sobering reality sets in even though I’m still a little buzzed. “Today is the day,” I think, somberly comprehending my inescapable fate.
It’s not the price.
Spellbound, I sat there, still too drunk to drive, riding shotgun, my Crave Case in my clutches.
You assured yourself it’d be quick. You promised you’d just “check and see if you had any new notifications from the last twelve minutes” and
From time to time, we’re all guilty of it. Work happens, sickness happens, hardcore Hasselhoff-ian binge drinking happens...
Probably depends on who you ask...
Drinking > Studying
I mean, it's still better than no sex at all...
Motivations will vary. It could be a fluke shit-storm that brews up out of seemingly nothing and catches you by […]