If I don't come home tonight, I've died in a pile of gay.
Remind me to tell you about the dream where im a fighting a super hero whose only weakness is sunkist.
we had you propped up in a chair and fed you donuts. i've never seen you happier
I need to write the inventor of adderall a thank you note stapled to a copy of my degree
Well he's not a stripper, so we're already doing better than my last date.
He called his prostate his "boner button".
theres a note on the fridge that says "guess what i peed in" and a half-full bottle of apple juice front and center. why did you let him in the house?
i still can't believe we survived that barcrawl. the third bar had bullet holes and we still went in.
Maybe he meant to say like I love fucking you? But just forgot the fucking part.. That's what I'm telling myself.
It just smells like spaghetti and despair.
I feel like too many of my sentences start of with "Hey, fuckface!"
His dick isn't even good enough to be this much of an asshole
I almost had a threesome in a giant beanbag chair. I love college.
Thought for a game. Duck, Duck, Grey Goose. If you're tapped, you take a shot. Then proceed as normal.
I sort of feel bad for this orthodontist. The things that have been in my mouth in the past 12 hours aren't exactly socially acceptable.
Randomize
