PS- did you die? If you did just text "dead" to me, so that I know.
Just woke up. I have a "Detective Jacob Arnold's" business card in my pocket.
You did not just play the dead husband card again.
I have a feeling that watching gay porn with you was the reason I was dancing in a hurricane of floating dicks in my dream last night.
I invited you and you fucked me in the face with the penis of disappointment and shit.
Thanks to a poorly written tweet a whole bunch of people thought I died last night.
I imagine my service panda will provide sufficient protection. At the very least it will be an irresistible cuddly distraction while I make good my escape.
It was like something out of a fucked up fairy tale. He just crowdsurfed over to her while riding a keg, said "come sail with me", and then the crowd carried them off into the night. What.
Baked goods and tits. Hard to go wrong there.
You keep making the old jokes & I'm gonna come down with a sudden case of low-estrogen related vaginal dryness..
Why were you twerking to, "The Wheels on the Bus"?
I begin to question your sobriety when you both left here shirtless, with beers in one hand and shotguns in the other
But then our conversations are like black box recordings. Just the stuff you hear when the plane is going down
He’s tiny, hairless and humps my leg when he wants sex. He’s basically a chihuahua
There were 16 girls and 31 titties. That’s how the club was. Lance doesn’t get to decide ever again.
Randomize
