Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
Think about all of the events that have led to this: me sitting in the back of my classroom drinking beer out of a taco bell cup, telling the teacher I have to leave early to go to an AA meeting.
It's like she bought one bad life decision and got one free
she was carrying the quesadilla around the bar like a security blanket
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He asked me to grab his balls and yell "thats a spicy meat-a-ball" Last time I do requests.
4 am. She strained the mac and cheese onto her legs. She has no skin.
I think I just fucked my first person born during the Clinton administration
I ended up driving home on my birthday, he opened the door to puke on the highway, and animal balloons were flying out of the car the entire time. The people behind us got a show.
If me getting shot doesn't get me pussy I am officially gay
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You had two tasks: \n1) put on a condom \n2) text me so I don't walk in on you \nIt really isn't that hard
I ate the most amazing corn dog today.
I will probably dream about it.
My CPA just snapchatted me a picture of her playing beer pong at a picnic. Time to do my own taxes?
He showed up at my apartment drunk with a telescope wanting me to look at the "blown up star" in -24 degree weather, claiming "it's in the name if science"
There were firefighters and a fire truck up the street. I asked what was wrong and their exact words were "Just a tiny explosion; it'll be all right"
I made out with that lesbian chick for a blunt. NO REGRETS.
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