I bet a guy could be masturbating under the table now and people would just think he was clapping along.
I just got a drinking merit badge from a slutty girl scout
the coke olympics were a bad idea. there's a tree uprooted in the front of my building.
I heard porn and smelled bacon cooking. I knew you had to be home.
You scratched my dick last night. It deserves an apology and I fell that actions speak louder than words when it comes to apologies like this.
I'm going to have to take an awkward trip to the front desk to ask them if they found a pair of turquoise shorts and an "I'm the Mom" sweatshirt.
God and karma are having a fucking field day with my body today.
He seems to have a lot of things figured out and most of the answers involve bourbon
I swear that when we jog in the morning I can hear it slap between his thighs
Her boobs take up a lot of room so God had to skimp on the brains
he shit on the floor last night i'm not venturing down there
I still don't understand if he's using me to write his resume or if we're dating
We ended up shitfaced at the house after the Super Bowl trying to get someone from Scientology on the phone.
I was fingering her and they busted into my room demanding to know who the best running back was, before I could say anything she moaned and said "Barry Sanders"
he's spending the night tonight. if i can walk straight tomorrow i'll be pissed.
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