There comes a time in every man's life where he has to shit in a catbox to prove a point.
Somewhere in this world my second husband is in 9th grade.
She made a list of the things each of us had done wrong and assigned a point system. Guess who came out the loser?
I reached in my backpack to pull out my laptop. I found my bottle of Jack and 2 bottles of Coke. It's going to be a good class.
Saw the college gyno today. It has now been medically confirmed that I have a perfect vagina.
so the good news is that i can't possibly burn my eyelashes off tonight at the bbq.
One of those nights had to have been when we tried to walk through the McDonald's drive through -- and then got in the car with complete strangers. And stole their hamburgers.
Some guy just showed up at my door to return my bikini top. EXPLAIN NOW
My brain is like scrambled eggs. If scrambled eggs were trying to escape out of my skull through my forehead.
The guy I brought home last night made a speedy escape while I was in the bathroom. The only trace I found of his flight was a lone sock on the stairs.... It was like a whorey low budget Cinderella
I think I have a bro crush.. When I imagine him, I imagine him waking up to go take a shower and just finding three bitches making out waiting for him. Like that awesome.
"I made out with someone too, but then he tried to fuck and I played dead"
I think one make out session at a bar per year is probably the best choice.
Woke up this morning to a bunch of snapchats of you drunkenly yelling at grasshoppers. Good night?
She started crying because the Rugrats grew up
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