All I remember from last night is puking up a box of cheeze-its and the building catching on fire.
The Shake Weight not only toned my arms but significantly improved my hand job form and efficiency.
I still can't figure out why that's not in the commercial.
the last thing i remember was trying to convince him to call over his girlfriend so we could have a threesome
He's throwing up in my bed and I'm not even getting fucked for this
I could hear them screwing through my bedroom wall again this morning, so I started beat boxing to the tempo.
How am I supposed to be friends with him when there's an exact replica of his dick in my underwear drawer?
Wearing scrubs to buy plan b so I look like I have my life together.
Porn. Physics. Porn. Icecream. Porn. That's my life now.
On the way out the door to work grabbed the wine glass on the floor left for the ghost of Elijah and chugged it. PASSOVER.
You asked the bartender if she was trying to get you drunk. She cut you off after that.
No celebraish? But today's the day that Jesus, Bruce Springsteen, and a flock of bald eagles came down from the heavens in fighter jets with electric guitars and M-16s a blazon, saying "Hey America, fuck the Red Coats, it's time to party"
I got wine drunk and bought a hedgehog.
Hey! Happy Birthday! Could you do me a favor and bring my underwear to the bar?
If people had ratings on Tinder I'd give you 5 out of 5 stars.
R.I.P my virginity. TOD 12:37pm
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