I'm upset that MJ died and all but waking up to his face on my HDTV in the middle of the night while half-asleep is pretty much the scariest fucking thing ever.
so i hit rock bottom, god threw me a shovel. i continued to dig.
I woke up to a paper award certificate for best blow job and he was gone. You're welcome mystey man.
Don't let me forget to bring the toilet inside tonight.
I went to grab his drink and my hand grazed his dick. It was magical.
I loved your drunken rendition of "I wanna dance with somebody" that you left on my voicemail last night.
She just hopped out of the car at a red light to pet the baby Jesus in the nativity scene.
Not worth it.
Great. Now I'm always going to be the roommate that boned a guy with a third nipple.
I'm using my dog as a pillow. He's cool with it.
Buying the inflatable beer pong table for the pool was one of the best investments I've ever made
Btw, I feel the need to make sure we have no misunderstanding about this. So here goes. I'll happily mess around with you again. However, I probably won't do it while you're dressed like a creepy clown. Or any clown.
I never want to even look at fireball again because it reminds me of the night I died and then lived to tell the tale of how I died.
I've spent hours masturbating before. It's actually my favorite Sunday activity
Sooo, did you delete me cause I said I wouldn't babysit you while you did shrooms? You're a grown man.
Did you ever hear the story about the time I did blow in a bar bathroom with the #1 ranked golfer in the world?
Randomize
