the Monday before Thanksgiving is not a Monday at all. Just Thursday in Monday suit.
woke up with 15 BAGS of hot dog buns in my passenger seat... jameson strikes again
After so many times of carrying your puked covered clothes home in a bag on a Tuesday morning, you begin to realize that Fucked Up Mondays aren't a real thing.
Beautiful wedding. Beautiful bride. I got shitfaced. Came home and ate two corndogs. I'm still single.
I plan on showing these boobs to so many people that by the end of it ill just have a shirt of beads.
It's two in the afternoon, I'm on my third glass of wine and I'm watching Lambchop on youtube. How do you think I feel right now?
Day 10 and still no sign of rescue in my pants.
A warmed up burrito and jelly beans. The breakfast of champions.
Once again being low on toilet paper is forcing us into another round of our favorite game - toilet paper roulette - where there can only be 1 winner. Maybe.
If you don't see me at the bar tomorrow night, I was most likely captured by the communists.
She's the good dick fairy. You buy her a beer and half an hour later the best lay in the place is asking to take you home.
I JUST BROKE A NAIL MASTURBATING. WTF I could even enjoy my orgasm bc now I'm gonna have to spend $50 on my nails.
I AM A SEXUAL NIGHTMARE
I got a message the other day that just said “great tits”
A gentleman AND a scholar
I sent him nudes while he is at work because I am an evil human being.
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