If I could text you the sound of me vomming, I would.
I know I'm really high but I swear I just saw him beating off to his fantasy football roster.
He got mauled by a 200lb cement boulder and all he could say in the back of the ambulance is 'I'm so getting laid for this'
Chelsea handler, $19 million - Forbes women top 100. Seriously she shaped her career around her love of vodka. HERO.
Thursday nights need to stop happening to me.
then he tried to tell me how many times he had seen Scott's dick. his estimate was about 180 times. he thought I didn't understand.
I heard liver failure is in for 2012 anyways
I didn't ride the struggle bus so much as drive it backwards off a cliff.
Just rinsed and put my styrofoam cup of noodles in the dishwasher. I need to be not hungover ASAP
You're getting spoiled, you better send me at least a side boob pic if you wanna see my dick dressed up as Davie Crockett.
ripping the fire alarm off the wall probably seemed like a better idea last night than it really was.
He and I are in a competition of who can sleep with the most people at work. We're tied at two. I could win this if they'd stop hiring damn straight girls.
He sent me a dick pic. I am fighting the urge to send him a "sorry for your loss" card.
It began the way the best stories do—with some naïve jackasses in a place they had no business being at.
Do you remember vividly describing the shape and girth of my cock to that girl last night?
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