Need sex. Gaining weight.
he opened up his "box of magic": a crusty tube of KY jelly, three expired condoms, a fingertip vibrater, and a jar of marshmallow fluff.
The cop refused to sing with us, even though he was as happy as we were that the tow truck finally showed up.
I woke up to blood crusted on my face. I don't understand
team rage. no explanation necessary
I know. I almost started crying. IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS THAT A TURN ON?!
Seriously? He's going to use MY birthday sex as the opportunity to ask if he can pee on me?!? I let him, but wow talk about selfish.
I'm not really into her personality. Not that we've ever looked for personality in women.
That's only a quality to look for in a second marriage.
Bitch, I been tryna reach you all day to talk to you about these Dorito tacos.
What's the standard Christmas present for six months of booty calls?
Mobile recharge?
And now we should drink to that moment where you realize you didn't exactly think things through.
Just puke out the sadness. Like a fuckin dragon.
You know you've got awesome issues when the main deciding factor of whether or not to cut your nails depends on nacho consumption in the near future
I feel like I missed the land of milk and honey and instead wound up in the land of beer and pizza. And yet, I think I'm happier here.
I guess the lesson here is that I shouldn't send nudes to elected officials.
I told him I thought I was pregnant and he told me he accidentally killed my bird.
Circle of life.
Randomize
