apparently my drunken alterego is a lazyeyed bisexual.
I'll start drinking again when I know where I am
She kept saying I was her favorite Jonas brother, and for some reason, I was ok with that.
So the next morning, she had to tell her kids we were moving furniture around all night.
She must have been at ribfest tonight because my dick smells like barbeque sauce
I was fine until "Under Pressure" came on the radio. It's like God wanted me to shit my pants on the drive home.
No, he went to go get condoms. The least I could do was chug two beers before he got back
She's posted my bail. Twice. Of course I'm going to be her wing girl.
Let's just say we ended up at Denny's with a strippers shoe that we had to discreetly leave at the door to the strip club this morning
He sent me a picture of him trying to push his cock into a Gatorade bottle. I dont know if I'm impressed it didn't fit and disgusted that he sent me something so vile.
Gay bathhouses. They're actually a thing. So god does exist. And he doesn't hate me as much as you think he does
Now I'm having a post-sex brownie. Is this the life? I think it might be
Kinda hard to look your partner in the face the day after a rousing game of How Many Ways Can I Capture Your Penis.
I'm currently hiding from this horrific thing that we call adulthood. If anyone needs me, I'll be smoking a bowl in the bouncy house.
I just made the same noise looking at my salami sandwich as I do hooking up with you.
Randomize
