When you're on the hood of a car, 10 mph feels pretty fucking fast.
Internet sex stories have completely ruined the word sopping for me.
I could write a book on how to barely get by in community college. I just took an online quiz on my phone, at the bar, 6 minutes before it was due.
Printing the vagina inspector badge was money well spent.
Just had the weirdest flashback. Did we buy melon, take it into the restaurant and try to make them give it to us as dessert?
He blew a .19 and then slurred "well I did have some rum cake earlier today officer".
my question is who was more confortable? You sleeping on the floor or me tweeting from a bush?
she tied the funnel to the fucking ceiling...
you literally stared at me for three minutes and then said "hey this tequila isn't gonna drink itself, boss"
All I'm sayin is that I don't want to raise anything. Or deal with anything. Or having anything come out of my vagina. I mean, I don't think that's asking too much.
Say what you want about my van, but I've got more action there than in my apartment. A body pillow and a joint still go a long way!
I'm gonna give the church their tithe, and the rest is a down payment on boobs.
Your phone just changed "liver" to "liquor" how dose that make you feel
Don't tell me you're on acid again
I had to dust off the condom box before she came over..
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