i have nine cents in my fucking bank account... not even a dime
So I thought I was slick leaving his room this morning all incognito. Little did I know I was wearing his football jersey with his name across the back... stilettos & my bra was left behind. never seeing that again
there hasn't been a girl guy ratio this good since a guy jumped on one of the Titanic life rafts
any advancement on the stomach flu vs. pregnancy scare of '10?
We told our cab driver we'd give him 3 grand if he pit maneuvered you guys in your cab.
She ditched her BF in the library to come see me wasted at a house party and i still ended up banging that rugby chick instead.
Also, ran into my neighbor across the street. He told me about scheduling his vasectomy. We are officially way beyond the acceptable point for asking his name again.
Can't decide if I want to watch full house or the fleet wood Mac concert during the presidential debate.
Do you think blood ever gets sick of carrying all these drugs around?
Like, there are so many different things we make it do, and it just wants to settle down and be a one-drug fluid?
Stop reading WebMD high.
Mostly because I hate my job and a have a photogenic penis.
I'm over here willing to be the Yoda of fucking but I guess he just doesn't want to be a Jedi.
Nothing says "single girl" quite like Pinot Grigio and canned ravioli at 11:30 pm....
as I was leaving in the morning with his clothes on his roommate pops up and goes 'don't you dare steal that shirt, i gave it to him for his birthday'.
His penis is the only thing worth pursuing but all the baggage attached isn't.
He was actually surprised when I poured myself a glass full of straight vodka. Clearly he doesn't know me as well as he thinks.
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