Call me back. I want to hear your side of the dead cat in my garage story.
You asked the waitress for a vasectomy and handed her a butter knife, like you were ordering something from the menu
just heard 2 nerds making fun of a girl for mispronouncing stochiometry. they followed it up by discussing the mathematical equation for getting laid. my day just became 100x better.
she woke up, said "please dont tell me your name, i dont want to remember it"
What the fuck am I going to do with a pinata full of tampons?
I woke up at 3am, my head in a toilet, still at the kegger, wearing a random cowboy hat.
I went commando last night, then accidentally flashed a police van...They acknowledged it.
It's been two days. I am still burping up jello. Everything tastes like jello. Everything smells like jello. I am DONE with jello shots.
Oh god. I asked to "play his sexaphone" which I though was a super sex way to say "let me blow you". He fucking walked home at 4:30am
Can we go one day without you telling me that your dick misses me
sweating bourbon at client mtg -- you?
I have alotted at least an hour for ugly crying.
I'd climb him like a horny MILF spider monkey.
Apparently 'ewww' is not the correct response to him saying he has to go to a funeral while I'm there.
I've come to the conclusion that my issue is I'm not fucking a guy with a headboard