So I have $4.22 in my bank account, just wrote a check for a tooth brush from quikmart, and bought a 25 cent condom from the bathroom. i don't know whats more sad, my bank account or the fact that i'm entrusting my entire future to a condom machine that was probably last filled in 1970
States back in the final four. Now our sunday night drinking has purpose. Sparty on baby.
No need to clean the puke on the driveway. The squirrel is eating it up.
Nothing says true friendship like 2 people bonding over potentially having AIDS.
Apparently he always goes for the wrong girl so it should be easy for me to nail him.
My dick was out way too much saturday not to get laid
I need someone to meet me at the end of the road and throw captain morgan at my face like they do with water at marathons
He has a shower chair now. So he sits and watches me shower. It's kind of creepy.
ugh... fuck pirate breakfast. my head is like thirsty.
I've decided that I'm okay with you getting a goat. I have to get over my completely rational fear of goats somehow.
I just had to explain to an 70+ year old lady what 'coitus' was. This was not in my job description.
We were having a serious discussion about Blue's Clues and I just kept thinking, 'you've seen me naked'.
He says it takes a lot to subdue the urge to just bury his face in my vagina. Of course, I have absolutely no problem with this.
For the record you're a very classy lady and your love for and mastery of strap-ons is amazing. I would gladly marry you and father your offspring
Why are your pants in the freezer?
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