Do you think we're allowed to sign male strippers into the building with a valid id?
I feel like I'm in a bed a bagels and mistakes.
I was taking a bath and he burst in, sat down and started taking a shit. RIGHT BESIDE ME. My lack of privacy astounds me.
By the power invested in me, I now pronounce your taco to be meaty. Meaty taco meaty taco meaty meaty meaty taco.
I mean...he was throwing up for almost 3 consecutive hours. I don't think there's a chance in hell that would have tasted even close to tolerable.
If I had to summarise my weekend I would do so using the words "horrifying romanian moonshine"
Lets now bow our heads and think of girls with ex boyfriends who were great at fingering them. That's so sad.
I literally just rubbed my stomach and told my liver to "hang in there baby"
I'm only wearing socks and eating tuna, don't do this to me right now.
just because you have a nice tits it doesn't make you a magic little snowflake.
Moral of the story: next time my plans include you and bourbon, I'm packing a toothbrush.
I can see their wedding vows now: 'Til basicness do us part
Girl, he's like catnip for my pussy.
Is it ironic that our divorce court is a block from where we had our reception? Or is it just sad? Alanis has confused my understanding of irony.
He lured me round with the prospect of sex and then made me proofread his CV and spoon. I fucking hate this guy.
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