There comes a time in every man's life where he has to shit in a catbox to prove a point.
he used a semicolon in his bootycall text, of course he's not gonna go down on me.
My body has become completely dependent on Text Twist. I can't poop without it.
Actions speak louder than pants.
We fucked in your water heater closet. Told you we'd try everywhere.
It's end St Patricks day. I'm gonna need a leash. And a bib. And a rain check on anything considered dignifying.
No. Cease was criminally insane from birthday shots, and not a lot of women want to go home from the bar with a guy who wants to "snuggle but keep it strictly professional".
The usual, im laying out. Ipod on shuffle, Large spray bottle to cool myself of and a smaller one filled with chilled vodka. I can spray the vodka right in my mouth without even opening my eyes. THIS IS LIVING....
The hot tub didn't work. But it's okay because we discovered just how many people you can fit in a bathtub.
If by some world ending natural disaster I get into an actual relationship with this kid, should I tell him the truth about the web of lies I've based our current relationship on?
You yelled to anyone that tried to help you "I have a burrito, what else could a girl want?"
He told me that his greatest skill was making White Russians.
I swear we were drugged last night
We had a 130$ tab bitch. We drugged ourselves.
When he pulled out it sounded like a balloon deflating
I just found two ugly toothless rednecks fucking in the woods in my backyard. The man shouted at me close the door your letting the stank out which made no sense to me cuz we where outside. Whatever. just another Monday in the Northwoods.
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