White coat. Heels.
the "happy anniversary" cake for my mom and dad is about to turn into the "yeah, that's a hickey, welcome back from italy" cake.
you need to not memorize your credit card number for drunk pizza
He's like the houdini of condoms. I never even realized he put one on before we fucked. he's magical.
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Due to our sore throats we are now doing bong hits with cranberry juice to sooth it.
Either this is the best sandwich I've ever had, or my stomach is just relieved to have something in it that's not Red Bull or semen.
Made fish tank punch. It's like trash can punch but in a fish tank. Also, my dad saw a picture I uploaded on Facebook and called me a pussy for only making 10 gallons.
Your subconscious sucks. Mine is awesome. I have a recurring dream where I manage a chocolate factory run by big titted hookers.
A) you're a liar. B) that would be awesome.
Whiskey dick is like insurance for making bad decisions
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I'm about to ride on a tractor i have no time for you
Where the condoms are as broken as my dreams
you really need to remember next time not to write your name and phone number on the paper its wrapped in.
But what if it got lost?
its illegal. you dont want people to contact you if they find it.
Monday afternoon and I'm still hungover from Valentine's Day. I think I'm winning at the single life.
Just burnt my tongue. Not sure if it will help or hurt giving blow jobs
I'm pretty sure the Bible says "He who is most sober may cast the first stone."
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