I miss Bob Barker.
Yeah, more like Douche Carey...
2010 has been the year of the Eskimo brother. Let's see how many igloos we can shack in next year
Europe's "the final countdown" was playing. It was pretty much amnesty for anything that might happen the rest of the night. It's a rule.
For future reference, Twizzlers CAN leave welts.
The last thing I remember is your grandma calling me a pussy and taking my shot for me. Your family is awesome.
hot buttered vodka was not a success. on any level.
Well that's another check off the sexual bucketlist of things I never wanted to experience.
All I want is a camelback full of Jameson and the weather to be cool enough for me to wear rainbow spandex. Ugh. Pride problems.
Imagine getting smashed in the dick by a basketball. A basketball made of metal. With spikes. That's pretty much what his dick looked like.
I feel like passing out with my foot on your face has bonded us at a very fundamental level.
"I'm in the bathroom. Only place I can sit and relax without that girl trying to give me a lap dance."
We really gotta change brands again because 2-ply is making us feel like the celebrities we aren't.
Her instagram is literally selfies, cats, and guys she's fucked.
You don't have to have sex with both if us but I would like a little positive fucking regard.
Also, I wish we had magnetic nipple rings and our boobs stuck together.