in the event that i am dead, my body is laying in the intersection of ... the pearl in springfield. it was my friend's 21st but i think i'm dead. wearing a black top. like i said, probably dead.
I faked it too. I just spit on your bed.
he got promoted. that means i have now given my new boss chlaymida. i need a new job.
She's like the pied piper of lesbians.
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I'd just like to give a shout out to jesus and plan b for making this day possible.
I couldn't drown my sorrows in an ocean of jack daniels. They may have scuba gear.
Got to the gym, getting changed, found a jello shot in my shoes.
If I could drive and get you Starbucks I would... But that's probably not a good idea. On account of the drugs.
Soooo fucked this chick last night! While fucking she started talking into the fan on the side of my bed. Does that count as sex with a robot
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I just need to drink whiskey get off and eat some cheese. Why is that so fucking hard for god to deliver.
Literally, and I mean LITERALLY as in "not to be confused with a casual hyperbole", LITERALLY the day we broke up she slept with 3 different guys that night.
1) It's nice to see that the whole "English Major" thing is upping the quality of your rants 2) Have you considered that your dick was the cork holding her sluttiness in?
So we hooked up and then instead of texting me, he endorsed me on LinkedIn for Microsoft Word a few days later
Now with the essential back story, I can empathize. Sorry about your beer and butthole.
At one point, the bartender wrote out the words "please kill me" on some receipt paper and slid it across the bar to me.
There’s an entire generation of people out there who didn’t grow up watching Mr. Rogers and it shows. These Boomers need to get their shit together.
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