I am slurping my drink like I am going to the electric chair
trying to fathom saturday night and the fact that Rainn Wilson now hates me. my brain hurts.
they could make at least 3 episode of "i shouldn't be alive" out of my weekend
The only thing that would make my night better is if William Shatner came and read me a bedtime story.
there is no excuse for him not showing up to my st. patrick's day party. i touch his dick. i get him on the high holidays.
You realize at the bar last night we blew on imaginary whistles like rose from titanic right?
Do you remember snorting allspice and yelling at doughnut shop girl?
Either there is a god and he hates masturbation, or one of my roommates stole my vibrator while I was in the shower.
No, listening to the fray and drinking a bottle of jack daniels does not count as counseling
My tits, and hanging out behind a hotel eating pizza.
Your topless pictures make me question reality
I really hope you didn't eat the bowl of melted vanilla ice cream I left on the coffee table. Because it is not melted vanilla ice cream.
Henceforth: booty calls will now be referred to as "deliveries of anatomy". That is all.
Because I'm sitting in a bath of my own wisdom and drowning my sorrows in coconut rum
So I thought you might like to hear how I went to sams club to print some pictures and suddenly there was 20 pictures of your dick and my snatch on the screen
Randomize
