so Brent and I ordered you a drink then realized you don't live here. I drank it.
we've coined the Sunday morning ritual of taking out our puke-filled trash cans as The Trash Of Shame
Just for future questioning, I didnt break up with you over text
Thanks man, but unless some hot chick comes in to work with a case of beer and offers me a head job, I'm pretty much screwed for New Years
He wouldn't give me a cup of water for my bong so i sat in the drive thru to run up the timer until he gave it to me.
He's single. I'm single. We should rekindle our eighth grade romance over a box of wine and carefree sex.
We team puked and then made sex like wild monkeys. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.
I think I'm still drunk...I just gave my empty conditioner bottle a break-up speech before I threw it away.
Haha. Maybe he's one of those feminine men who fucks like a god then makes you fantastic crepes afterwards
I'm basically your average "grandpa stuck in a 28 year old woman's body" - i'm super passionate about retirement and crossing on the walk signal.
and SLEEP god I love sleep
JEREMY RENNER GOT DIVORCED. I STILL HAVE A CHANCE.
Hey man, when I left for work she was laying on the couch naked cuddling your keurig, can you clean that mess up?
How exactly does a handjob become fancy?
Blueberry lube, and champagne.
I keep getting congratulated for drinking 2 six packs of mikes hard and winning the Olympic marathon and I don't remember this shit and now my throat is on fire
He is a sex God. It lasted more than an hour, and I don't remember how many times I came. I lost count at 57.
Randomize
