My mom just drunkenly told me i was conceived in the back of a car, at a Bon Jovi concert.
its official now. im not pissing on secret service cars with a senators inside anymore.
Not really fighting over the same girl. He takes her out to dinner and then I come over and fuck her. We've worked out the perfect relationship.
She asked me why there was $2 in the lunchmeat drawer of the fridge and BBQ sauce all over the kitchen... I'm not sure but I know it has something to do with you
That girl you went home with last night was dressed in a bright blue sweats at the bar. 205lb Smurffete FTL. Boy were you in epic form.
Hes a nice guy and all but I'm only interested in his drunken alter ego.
he told her he was actually impressed that she had fucked more people in this house than the four dudes living in it.
His phone pocket dialed me while he was crapping. He was quietly singing stayin alive and possibly passing his intestines.
Sex-sore abs and my workout pants have gravel stains on the knees. It's like the workout of shame.
The feeling I get when I hear beer bottles clinking must be what children feel when they hear sleigh bells on Christmas Eve
I just got my beard fondled by a drunk chick outside the venue. I feel slightly violated. And I think her boyfriend wanted to fight me.
because. if I can't sit outside naked and eat my watermelon every morning then I really don't see the point in moving in with you.
You having your own car has severely reduced the amount of blowjobs I get.
Sometimes intelligent conversation doesn't mix well with a romantic interest. It's possible the two are best kept separate. Toys should just stay in the toy box.
If so I'm coming over there. There's no way I'm having "hello, how are you" conversations with my neighbors on acid
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