And mexicans. My burrito likes you.
If there's ever a time when I've matured to the point that I don't want to look at camera-phone-titties, go ahead and bury me in a shallow grave by the railroad tracks.
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
i just remebered that we smoked out my hamster yesterday...
i hope hes still alive. i just remember you give him a shit load of cereal and saying "trust me your going to need it"
We had sex after spending two hours in the drunk tank. It was really deep and meaningful
Chapter 6 - how to lose your underwear in chicago
uhh when the x-ray tec was moving your head you licked his hand and meowed.. i think he knew you weren't sober
you crashed our wine night double date and sat on the floor eating cheese talking about how big his dick is.
Grandma can hear your bong from the living room, please be more quiet. Love mom.
I hear fucking Christmas music. I'm going to find fucking Santa and tell him to suck a dick and shut up for the next month
I started blowing him in North Dakota, and I finished the job in Minnesota. Oh, the places road head can take you.
I just picked up my phone and one shoe from the man mowing the lawn next to the ice rink. He found them in a tree.
Our motto for the night: BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT.
That's our motto every night.
I mean, "boo" isn't the appropriate response to someone dying...
let’s be honest I’d fucking Irish step dance on your grave, asshole
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