just told my prof that "i dont give a fuck" about the final. nothing like a having a signed employment contract already
No flamethrowers. That is a direct order.
I'm not sure, 7-8, the last bit was a rush of at least three blended together. Basically you fucked me so stupid that I can't even recall the number of orgasms.
So you know, I'm making that my facebook status.
I am in his childhood bedroom and I feel like his trophies are applauding me and his stuffed bunny is disgusted with me. Did you know he was a mathlete?
I just farted and its sounded like it was disappointed in me.
It's gotten so bad I typed my will out on my phone in case it's over.
I imagine my service panda will provide sufficient protection. At the very least it will be an irresistible cuddly distraction while I make good my escape.
Like an undercooked grilled cheese that got cold again. But hairy.
And there goes my desire for sandwiches. Forever.
Every time you visit for the weekend I end up having to bleach my entire house after.
HE ASKED IF I HAD SIBLINGS WHEN I ASKED HIM TO LICK MY ASSHOLE
I will teach you the ways of the ho life, my little gay grasshopper.
She doesn't even give a fuck about angle. I seriously gotta start doing like penis yoga or something.
guess who smoked weed with their grandpa tonight. and no it wasn't me.
Only good thing about the 50 Shades is that it is now completely OK to call a credit card co to dispute the charge for nipple clamps that didnt arrive.
I once went to target high on hydrocodone. I assure you, they can handle unrespectable.
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