Sorry I totally forgot to text you back. When you texted me I was at work at the pharmacy and it was stupid busy. And then of course I had my 8 hour "shoot me b/c half of Loyola comes in to buy plan B" shift.
we're taking shots every time my dog licks his penis. we're on number 8 now.
you should have been aborted.
when a girl says 'did you just try to kiss me' you should leave the bar. trust me.
the igloo is complete. bring your weed and the hat with the floppy ears
I really hope jumping jacks prevent pregancy because I'm kind of banking on it right now, do you know why there's a unicycle in the corner of my room?
Uhm; your sign says 'Welcome to KFC' and for some reason I can't seem to open the door.
I'm drinking your booze since you ate my pop-tarts. I'm telling you this because I still don't think it's a fair trade.
At this point, I'd date an ax murderer. So long as he doesn't cry all the time, have ED, or leave me with his unspayed cat. My list of requirements is becoming increasingly specific.
This is like 50 shades on steroids but with healthy relationship models and mutual respect among all parties involved and lesbian activity.
I just want cinnabon and vodka.
I feel like my foot is being amputated. Or maybe it's the vodka. I couldn't tell you.
The bar brought brought it upon themselves, they played billy joels piano man before closing, it's not our fault the bar isn't a bar anymore, right?
I just woke up, dressed as Chris Brown, with a bunless hot dog (presumably from 7/11) in my pocket, wearing a pair of shoes I don't recognize as my own. Help.
After he finished, he fell on the floor and whispered "finally satisfied"
Only you would make Mario Party a contact sport.
And you owe me a new pair of switch controllers.
Randomize
