I hate myself for knowing the words to party in the USA.
my mom just used "raw dog" in a sentence correctly, time to move out.
It's happening again. I feel like I'm under water and my heart beat matches "Teenage Wasteland"
There are topless girls riding the lawn flamingos. I win.
I don't think casual Fridays means I can go to work with dried cum in my hair...
My hickies are dark enough that I can feel drivers judging me from across an intersection
I just wish I could congratulate your tits on how much I love seeing them
I kinda wanna Instagram the giant vag stain on my sheets. That is something to be proud of. It's a Christmas miracle.
We were high as balls fucking in the back seat when we saw the blue lights. He's like, "I got this" and walked over butt ass naked and goes, "Sorry dude, we're just banging" and the cop apologized for disturbing us and drove off.
Pretty sure that propositioning you to fly across the country for sex fest '13 isn't something my husband would approve of.
Okay who let me pass out in a recliner cuddling a pitbull and a cardboard cutout of Orlando Bloom
I found it. now I'm going to the gym to be "healthy" or whatever that folklore is called.
So how do I get back in good graces for trying to trade you for superbowl tickets?
My toothbrush tastes like captain morgan
I'm jealous
But once you are just right and I work my tongue in the right spots and hot wax your balls and inner thighs. I will have you right where I want you.
Who is this?
Oops wrong number
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