Reach down the front of your pants and feel around for a while. When you find your balls, leave the library and meet me at the bar.
just watched a girl laugh at her own fingers... it's not even noon...
we're on our way back. she tried to pants the waiter again.
I am solely responsible for the birth of their child. I mean, I did push them into the room and hold the door shut yelling "punch that kitty!". It has to be a sign.
It's only 8pm and Karl already got a stripper fired.
i'm not sure when i reached "slam my own hand in the door" status but my half attached fingernail is not grateful.
I don't care how drunk you were. Sending me a pic of your dick dressed as Uncle Sam with the caption "I want you" isn't an acceptable pick up line.
My face feels like its stuck between a ball sack and an asshole.
He called it restless penis syndrome. I call it cheating.
I'm calling into work tomorrow for day drinking and kitten shopping. Totally legitimate.
I don't have to hold her hair back as she blows me but I do have to hold the ball on the Santa hat
Dude. Going to the Theme park the day after the 4th of July was the worst idea I've ever had.
My vagina is no longer accepting new clients.
No joke. There's a picture of the priest I made out with on my parents' refrigerator.
How much glitter would I have to ingest in order for a "magnificent" amount to appear in my ejaculate?
Randomize
