Some broad at the bar just asked me how much money I make. I don't know whats worse, the question or the answer.
there needs to be a "man fax report". like car fax. type in the guys name and bday and up pops all the bad shit he's ever done.
Somewhere in this world my second husband is in 9th grade.
You were too busy being proud of your penis shaped pancakes to notice...
Now all we have to do is pretend we haven't seen each other naked. Work tomorrow is going to be FUN.
dude Steve you don't even know. its just been one hairy asshole after another.
We're downstairs cleaning up and she turns to me with these big puppy dog eyes and says "Just so you know, I didn't have sex on your couch". You have to hug that.
I'm going to sing sad and lonely Barbra Streisand songs at the top of my lungs if you don't get here soon
But I'm a half a mile from my bed. And I have the hiccups. I hate hiccups.
My CPA just snapchatted me a picture of her playing beer pong at a picnic. Time to do my own taxes?
I understand why animals eat their young in the wild after watching your kid this afternoon
sorry bout the carpet, but you DID call it "blackout punch" not "don't vom on my floor punch"
fyi my negative pregnancy test is taped to the fridge...i'll take it over an A+ any day. be proud.
He's petting your head, we need to leave now.
How was the tequila? Are you making bad decisions yet?
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