We found an eightball on the ground last night. I mean, really, who does that?
Then I received a text in French, that roughly translated to "all you'll ever be good for is sex on the Internet"
i would think by now you'd realize that my penis does whatever the fuck it wants and i have no control over the situation
This girl just introduced herself as Queefer Sutherland. She's on a roller derby team. What. The. Fuck.
Give me a few hours to remember what being sober feels like.
so the last visual we have of him for the next 87 weeks is him outside on the ground rolling around yelling I HATE BLOWJOBS
Out of all the things I've put my penis in, this seems the most unfortunate.
I remembered to bring wine in a nalgene bottle, but I forgot sunscreen and water. I'm starting to question my life decisions.
i think he just broke into a bike shop his last text said something about hiding in some tree
I'm totally wasted about to ride water slides. That's goddamn 'Merican. That and Clint Eastwood.
You passed out with your mouth on the faucet, straddling the keg, with your arms wrapped around it
Do you know how hard it is to give a bj in your dead grandmothers car
I can't trust your balls anymore.
you kept shouting 'jesus penis' when i was on the phone with 911
Also I know now I was meant to be a comedian. Had both arresting officers laughing.
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