As my groomsman, I expect you to learn the Thriller dance with me before next September.
the bulge in his pants is not junk. its hair. trust.
Sorry I couldn't answer your call, I'm expecting a call from Chris Hansen.
I'm guessing you didn't end up going to the bar last night.
Nope. Ended up at what I believe was a slumber party down the street.
My vagina smells like strawberry tangerine twist.
it's like, God thought about making her pretty then changed his mind at the last second
He's so gross, but the preschooler inside me is screaming that this is her life dream and I have to be with him or she'll never forgive me.
You tried to tell her that the salad was an afrodisiac then proceeded to stroke yourself with the feather duster
I need to stop drinking. Side note- we have a party bus tonight. So the drinking will have to end after that
I have mastered the 3 minute room cleaning drill in preparation for the nights possible slam-piece
I'm tired and starving, and I'm pretty sure I just cost the company 33,000 dollars...fuck you and you're "you'll love going to work high" nonsense.
We shall need something stronger. Anal lube, the blood of a giraffe, and a bay leaf should do the trick. Make the paste and cover your left knee and anus in it.
At some point the phrase "I've hit rock bottom" stopped having a meaning and became my general state of life
I think I'm just gonna exercise my lungs and fingers. With bong hits and crochet. BECAUSE I AM A REAPONSIBLE ADULT DAMMIT!!
One of these days I would like to go out drinking and stick to plan of just getting drunk and not be sidetracked with other people's plans of doing drugs along the way. I didn't even want to not feel my teeth tonight but here we go just another Thursday night when you live I live
it's like my eyeball is being humped by my eyelid
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