If Billy Mays did an infomercial on your dick, it still wouldn't get you laid.
i just remebered what i did last night, i asked a homeless man on a bike "hey whatcha doin with that bike, wanna make 5 bucks?" he agreed and then rode me on his handle bars a block away to the next bar.
this one can actually spell my name, that's a shoe-in
we made malted milkshakes. malt as in malt liqour.
you both peed in the photobooth after the pictures were taken.
I totally cried the whole time and then screamed out my new therapists name....
We were making condiment sandwiches, then her husband kept trying to get me to sleep with her. I hate being the only lesbian at the party.
i can't understand anything he's saying. But he spells alcohol right everytime so i deciphered it.
dude a monday night stripper made you motorboat her. you should get that checked out
in my defense, he kept drinking all of my water.
he had diabetes and you told him to stop being a pansy!
I'm out of mixers so I am using sugar water. Times are tough.
I just gave her a sobriety test in the middle of the baking aisle.
And the results, officer?
She's fucked.
I need you there. I need someone to glance at when other people inevitably annoy me.
That's really the only reason I'm dating you, the prospect that I might get bacon
My GF, FWB and Side piece are all booty calling me. I’m a victim of my sexual success
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