So I just had this crazy idea, and no it has nothing to do with the fact that they made me take shots at work.
I fell off the front porch last night. Actually.. I dove. I dove off the front porch.
right as i was about to introduce them she goes "old fuck buddy, meet new fuck buddy."
so...he totally just used scissors to cut up the weed. a wet paper towel to moisten the blunt....and a blow dryer so it wouldn't be wet. this dude either has the worst case of OCD or has the potential to be the next martha stewart.
I'm sorry you missed class, the topic today is copy and paste. I'm not even kidding.
for the record, graham crackers won't get the taste of cock out of your mouth. also we're out of graham crackers
Between the dance party in the car and the distraction of the momma bear and two cubs im a cops wet dream roght now when comes to wreckless driving.
It was worse than that time I did shots of BBQ sauce and pierced my own ear with a thumbtack
While looking for an apartment, I've realized that the way I rate balconies is on the "how easy would it be to smoke weed here" scale.
What other scale is there?
The closest thing to a sext that you will ever receive from me is a picture of pepperonis on Greg's asscheeks, clenching.
If it meant we had chicks like that every weekend I would gay marry the shit out of you dude
So apparently nutella and chocolate body paint aren't actually the same thing.
Don't send me heart emojis when you're jacking off.
He showed me a picture of his family on Instagram and his dad was my Sugar Daddy. ABORT.
Sunday morning breakfast with the boyfriends family. I just puked in the stall at Cracker Barrell. Classy.
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