In a tragic sexting typo, I typed the word "blobjob". Now she's coming over and I have no idea what I'm in for...
When she talks to me all I hear are 5 generations of inbreeding speaking.
i got shots of sambuca dumped on my head last night. my bag still smells like licorice. making me nauseous.
it is a nice little reminder of the bruins dominance. if Vancouver had won, it would somehow smell of maple syrup.
Times like this, when you talk openly about Tinkerbell being your spirit animal, are times when I'm allowed to question your sexuality.
You left the resturant and came back with a McDonalds burger in your pocket so ya...no more pregaming birthday dinners. Especially since it wasn't your birthday.
Traveling before 21 and traveling after 21 are two different things. There's a whole nother world of red white and blue weird out there
Any clothing i put on is too many clothes.
If I never see my landlord's dick again, it'll be too soon.
She definitely peed in a bucket in their closet last night. We should warn them about that, right?
And one groomsman rode a suitcase cart like a skateboard until he crashed and took out a piece of sheet rock. Later he pulled out his nuts.
She text me that night and asked how the dick was and I quote my drunk self "average at best"
The only people allowed to make me cry are myself and Chris Hemsworth as Thor. And me.
My butt remains clenched, sir.
We get up to three toppings. Dignity is not one of them.
You some how ended up sleeping on one of the beams that run along the ceiling of your house
Randomize
