Here's my recipe for happiness. Go get a pen. 1. smoke a bowl 2. put on explosions in the sky 3. take a bath. Do this for about 1 hour or until all your problems go away.
I hit a bug from across the room with my flip flop boomerang style. That awesome.
you just kept bragging about how there was a "pretty large" chance that you had pooped on the same toilet as George Clooney
Time to do stuff I know I'll have to hide from my grandkids one day and everyone at next weekends wedding.
No, no... it's pale and surrounded by awkward, curly, red hair. It's the Ronald McDonald of penises.
I find it worrying that she bit me in bed. Then proceeded to write her name in bite marks. All without ever losing the rhythm of our fucking.
So are you still down for me to come stay with you and just have sex on vicodin all weekend?
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I give you full permission to fuck a rando on my air mattress.
with hottub sex, handcuffs, Pocahontas themed lap dances, and eating pumpkin pie off each other, I'm gonna say thanksgiving will be a success ;)
I can't wash the smell of tacos off my hands. I feel like the Lady Macbeth of Chipotle.
If my emotions are below a 3 or above a 7, I'm crying
Right in the middle of our simultaneous orgasms, he shouted "HAPPY NEW YEAR" ruining the intimacy
I'm using emojis for drug deals now. It's time to kill me.
Nothing like casual arson to brighten your day
You left me a note that said "The Earth is blowing up. Bring the Rosé." WTF.
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