There are traffic cones in the living room. One of them is yours.
My "High Times" magazine came in today, as well as my girlfriend's new sex toys. We're calling in sick today.
I sold my books for weed money!
Finals don't start for a week...
The waitress bought us a round. She said if anyone could do 52 margarita mondays in a row, it was us.
Just told my mom sparks is a health drink. Officially getting hammered on the way to the beach.
No clues in my phone. Only dialed call: my own social security number. And that was before 10:00pm.
Well it's a moot point because I did have a sink & I peed in it.
Fuck that. I'm not afraid to die. I'll prove you can survive on a bagel bites and rum diet.
Went to the doctor's today. The lady took one look at my throat and said "oh god"
Too much penis in there.
Ok. I'll enjoy the quiet (translation: I might be naked, call ahead if you come home tonight)
Don't get me wrong, the sex itself is amazing, but I don't think I will EVER get used to her habit of singing lines Jesus christ super star when she is about to cum.
I'm starting to think that birthday sex is just an urban legend. Like the boogey man, and woman orgasms.
Until you can top getting paid to have women tell you to check out their ass, my job will remain better than yours
you said you wanted to call me grandma and give me hugs
how much of this shit do i need to take before i think its a good idea to set the house on fire and scream satanic mantras?
Randomize
