I swear to god I'm going to hunt down and stab the next telemarketer that calls from a blocked number while I'm waiting for my STD results...
My mom seriously just told me my insurance company pays for rehab. In an email. I expect a real, not just us joking, intervention coming on. I'm not accepting a "lunch date" with that bitch.
No. Especially when my uncle started stripping. Too many shots. So that's where I get that from.
I found a digiorno pizza in my washing machine.
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Now one day I will be able to tell my children how a drag queen in a gay bar told mommy that bin laden was dead
If her puking on your pool table is her sign of a good night, it's time to intervene.
I'll have my hookups make my March Madness picks. Win my bracket, win my heart. That's how it works right?
Oh my god, I totally forgot we call your penis "Godzilla's Tail".
I'm beginning to think that women just have dogs at home as an excuse to leave ASAP after hooking up, without sounding like a typical guy.
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There's Dick Pix, Zorro, and The Little Engine that Could. I nickname my fuck buddies for the exact same reason why you don't name animals which you will one day have for dinner.
I cried over the lack of milkshakes I've consumed in the last month
I'm too socially awkward and sexually frustrated to get through this evening sober.
I am thankful for thumbs.
Because without thumbs, we would be dolphins.
Land dolphins.
We should just do therapy together, clearly we have all the same issues. It's why we are friends.
I can't tell if my heart is fluttering because I love him... or if it's palpitating from all the coke.
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