So I have to ask... did I meet your lumberjack expectations? I mean, minus the red flannel and all.
So it's like pop-o-matic trouble, but with penises
I looked at my own cervix.
So I'm cool with the whole break up, but it sure is a shame we didn't get to use those handcuffs.
We found your brother, passed out, floating in our pool, with a bottle, on a blow up mattress. How did he mange to walk 2 blocks and get into our backyard?
And I'm PMSing. So if I'm not crying, I'm masturbating.
my mom just asked if she should wash your furry handcuffs with the lights or darks
u kept pointing at random guys and making quacking or mooing sounds.
Apparently the cops have a video of me singing bob seger "Night moves".
Welcome to texting with Mike. You're now leaving the sober section and headed to our insanely high bad decision making portion of mike. Enjoy the trip.
college stoner meal of the day: microwaved nutrigrain bars
after she pushed someone down the stairs to get more vodka we lost her for a while and found her on the pole in the garage pouring water on herself
I know. I feel like I should be doing mature responsible adult things though. Like getting loans, working 60 hours every week and not eating burritos in bed, ya know?
I just wanna get high and take a fucking awesome nap. Those are my goals for the week.
Apparently 'ewww' is not the correct response to him saying he has to go to a funeral while I'm there.
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