Why do you proceed to call me "Queen La Queefah?"
You tired to make Beefaroni in the Mr. Coffee machine.
I have teeth marks. Like distinct upper and lower jaw.
Yeah me too. My shoulder looks rabid.
It smelled like mall pretzels. Of course I investigated.
He's upstairs shouting 'FUCK OFF I'M IN MY MOTHERFUCKING ZEN ZONE' out of the window.
He has what he calls a "Ben Franklin". It's a pubic hairdo based on the man himself; long on the sides and bald in the middle.
I would love a rich wife. Then I would be like a gym teacher or some shit. Bigfoot hunter maybe.
Did you get any pics? And I can only imagine how inferior you must have felt knowing that somewhere in that room was a guy whose penis was the length of your forearm.
Also-when I die, I want it to be with my arms above my head so that when rigor mortis sets in, my breasts are perky.
I might have pissed in the corner of someone's shed. They have nice lawn mower.
Y'know i appreciate how accepting you are of me being a terrible person.
You're telling that to the kid drinking Jack in nothing but a graduation cap
You can’t homewreck what the Lord hath brought together.
i asked her if she was sure that she was ready to do it and she replied with "come at me bro"
HEY I WILL KIDNAP THE FUCK OUT OF YOUR PET GOAT
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