Day 3 of Lent and I would already kill a puppy if God would give me permission to masturbate
OMG HAIR ON HIS DICK. HAIR ON HIS DICK AS IN GROWING OUT OF HIS DICK. HAIR.
Post-sex chicken soup was such a good idea. It's been like an hour and I'm still applauding myself
you sat in the middle of your kitchen floor feeding your dog blueberries one by one
Woke up handcuffed to a half gallon of beam. Yep. This is my life.
Still borderline I believe. As bad as this sounds, I feel God owes me one here and should not let his grandmother die till after my birthday
I cannot tell if the couch is cold or I spilled beer. THAT kind of night.
I went on my dinner date pretending that my lunch date didn't jizz in my hair.
Bartenders are not toys. I repeat, bartenders are not toys.
She just lifted up her dress, screamed "This is gonna be a good one!" And pissed on the pole...
Carving a pumpkin in a gay bar at 2am. How did my life get to be this way.
You can't spell "party" without "RA."
You know what else you can't spell it without? "Gonna get fired."
You don't have a wife, you don't have a dog, and you need a new bong. Don't make this any worse than that.
Our music was glorious. Maidens were deflowered to the sound of my voice.
Tomorrow night, I am putting you In my trunk. No excuses we have waited forever for this.
Randomize
