The guy at McDonald's just told us there is no flash photography allowed.
he thanks me after handjobs.
you found the perfect man.
I knocked myself out momentarily last night when I fell and hit my head off of my jewelry box while trying to take his pants off... while he was passed out.
He was so good, that I'm pretty sure he fucked his religion into me. P.S. I'm Jewish now.
All I want is to send a text that says "i slept with someone while wearing nothing but purple argyle socks this weekend." But the only person i would send that to is you. But you already know. Because they were your socks.
Except if I'm having sex. In which case you're in the bed with us or out of the room. No halfsie participation.
I don't know. Something about answering "what did you do on Sunday?" Seems odd when the reply is, painted, went to the grocery store, put a restraint device on my bed.
But I'm a half a mile from my bed. And I have the hiccups. I hate hiccups.
Hey by the way did you notice my third nipple in my snapchat
I'm only fucking women born in the 90s this summer
*goes to show prof a picture* *forgets tit pic is in camera roll*
Well, the night started out with you ALMOST falling out of a tree. Then we went back to the tree after about 9 shots and you DID fall out of the tree.
He is married, and has a regrettably large penis. I need to find another one right away to get myself out of this mess.
How big does a penis have to be before it becomes regrettably so?
I’m vetoing meatball margaritas right out the gate. We can’t have people throwing up again!
And I mentioned the burning debate about your circumcision in my Christmas card to your mom.
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