My brother and I both agreed that your boobs are fake.
I cut holes in my blanket and put my arms through it. It's the sleeveless "Bro Edition" Snuggie.
Washing the last semen-stained shirt you have really solidifies a breakup. It just got real.
2 am we went back to his house. his mom handed us beers and cooked us pancakes. the next morning his dad had washed my car. i lied. living at home after college definitely does not suck.
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Woke up on the kitchen floor cuddling with the dummy we made of you. Hope your internship is going well.
..She then engaged in what she called an "interpretive pole dance"
Come over, I want to eat cookie dough off your dick.
Should I feel guilty that my husband is cheating on his girlfriend with me? I mean, we're not divorced yet so I still have dibs, right?
I told him to just roll me a blunt and put it in a heart shaped box.
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It took 6 cruisers to bust the party last night. Cop asked if the theme was a beach party. I said I would fucking hope so with 8 tons of sand in the garage
Moral of the story: fuckboys never change
I think getting right with the Lord should involve more than me and a bottle of tequila.
Would you be so kind as to inform your husband that my truck is forever cursed by mashed potatoes and it's his fault.
I wrote life affirmations on my notes to repeat and read several times a day so I become a better person, see the time on the toilet has been constructive
Your boobs are like a folk legend.
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