Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
i really wish i had a remote for my computer. its all the way on my bed while im across the hall puking my brains out to enya. not cool.
HOnestly. That's my one goal for this whole trip. I don't give a shit about souvenirs or sand. I want penis.
My warmest regards to the fish in that koi pond I puked in.
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i'm on the subway and being revisted by the ghosts of tequilas past.
Was that not clear on Friday when I nearly deapthroated two ice cubes?
STOP LICKING HIS MUSTACHE
They switched jackets and you didn't notice. You made out with both of them and had no idea
His penis contains the glue that keeps this relationship together.
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He put a canoe in the lazy river at the water and started paddling away from security
Now we're discussing the sex we had and the later lack thereof. It's like marriage counseling via snapchat.
He told me to tell my ass that he loved and missed it, and even though he hasn't known it long, it might be the one for him
He looks like an accountant with a secret kinky candy filled center.
Yeah, but having a dick this size has ruined 3 marriages.
i'm trying not to stalk him on facebook
i gave in
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