I need to talk to you about an important matter involving lesbians.
my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
If its called oral, why is it so hard to talk?
So I think I just got a job offer from the guy I used to blow. See, networking pays off.
My mail consisted of a box of dildos and christmas card from grandma.
What's the rule on cocaine before dinner?
Its 11 o'clock somewhere
I'm gonna hire strippers dressed like the founding fathers.
I really want to text him and congratulate him on having a bigger penis than the guy I dumped him for, but I thought that might be awkward...
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
My life is sponsored by tidy cat kitty litter, Bacardi rum, and plan b.
And after peeing my pants waiting outside for him, i proceeded to drop down and roll in the nearest puddle to pretend like i just ate shit when he arrived
Whenever I'm hungover I try to stay in public as much as possible, hoping to be a cautionary tale to children. It's a public service, really.
So pro tip. do not order drugs from india and then assume you know your tolerance level.
YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOUR VAGINA
as i was trying not to drunkingly fall off her toliet, i noticed her socks laying there. i quickly grabbed them, ran upstairs, and excitingly asked her if she had gotten them at sams club. she replied with, "...those are your socks."
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