Then you got really excited when I upgraded you from puke bowl to puke bucket.
You just kept yelling "SATAN!" at me every time I walked by
I'm walking down the halls of our hotel and listening for sex noises and knocking when I do.
My T9 text prediction thing keeps predicting every next word is going to be "midgets".
Imagine a baby lion feeding on an injured gazelle and it tasting fresh blood for the first time. That's me and this breakfast sammich
Rent Disney Oceans. Smoke a bowl. Fast forward to the seal section. Then call me.
After 3 dates I think I'm failing at painting the "sweet guy with a future" picture and more painting the "this is the guy to call when you've run out of options and want to get fucked in half drunk to forget about it" picture.
I think I should just accept my destiny that I'm going to be someone's second wife
My tits sealed my fate
I had him autograph the condom wrapper.
YOU ARE NOT A BOTTLE OF RUM THEREFORE I DONT KNOW HOW TO LOVE YOU
My drug dealer just asked me to go see Les Mis on Christmas. Should I be worried this is some type of musical set-up?
If this were a real emergency kilted men wielding claymores and riding giant badgers would hve rescued said Guinness. So clearly this is just a hypothetical
I'm just impressed that you can puke without losing your gum
Sorry I've been a slutty nightmare this week
my dad just built a flame thrower.. you should probably get here
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