my mouth tastes like poor choices
I don't even remember his name...i'm just gonna save it as birthday sex
so when we were booking the hotel and plane tickets for vegas we reserved a chapel for someone, it's inevitable.
I get a nice feeling when i open my fridge and see it filled with thirty beers and half a leftover jimmy johns pickle.
He was streaking. We were hammered. We had roman candles. It only made sense to shoot them at him.
I definitely hasselhoffed a taco bell burrito on my kitchen floor in front of my dad and little brother.
With your fertility you would just get contact pregnant
I feel bad for her, but I feel like she's one of those resource-raping alien civilizations that visits planets, decimates them and then leaves. Those really aren't the qualities I appreciate in a friend. Ya know?
That final makes me want to drink myself into the fetal position
Robert just walked in drunk, grabbed my Jameson from me, told me to let him do his thing, and spilled it all over the coffee table. Then he told me to grab a funnel because he was going home.
And that's why we do second round interviews for possible roommates.
I should send him a pic of my crotch with the caption "thanks for the memories"
Sweet tea and masterbation. It's how I manage.
Most of my life can be described like an HBO prison drama.
That's why my boobs are so big, they're full of secrets.
Randomize
