pshh wine cellars. now if he has a tequila cellar whole different story
Can you please check on Jay? He just called and left a Backstreet Boys song on my voicemail. Either it's 1998, or someone needs to go back to rehab.
Oh my god. I opened up my microwave and there was a pile of bacon in it. It's like my mother knew I'd be hungover.
I might scale it back and go as an investment banker. Which is the exact same costume as James Bond on LSD. I just introduce myself differently.
No fucking idea. Just paid for my chipotle in chocolate coins, though. Either there is a huge language barrier happening here, or my big boobs are finally paying off.
You ass. You're not the one who bought me flowers, so obviously you will not be the recipient of the blow job of gratitude.
Driving a mountain pass in the middle of a blizzard with the worst vodka gummybear hangover ever is gods way of telling me to keep the black-outing within a 15 mile radius to my house.
As I was brushing his cum out of my hair he looks at me and says "it happens to me all the time."
My wife climbed on top of me, fucked my brains out, and gave me money from the ATM. I'm living the dream.
I lost Mario kart three times but I got laid so it wasn't the WORST night I've ever had.
You said too many real things and now I need to crawl back inside my protective fort of sarcasm, being an asshole, and sass
I'm making a will, in it I'm leaving you my skull.
I was writing 'DISTRACTION' across my chest in Sharpie when my boob fell out. Right on camera.
Thanks to you I can't show my boobs tomorrow for the interview.
You came in wearing a whipped cream bikini what did you think would happen
You were so drunk Last night you asked for your glasses so you could read the directions on a band aid
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