I'm going to get a baby outfit made and send it to her that says: "My husband fucked his subordinate and all I got was another baby".
Trying not to fart in the comp lab is going to take everything i've got.
Just stuffed an entire cupcake in my mouth after finishing third glass of wine. Valentines day is pretty much going how i expected it.
so I'm coping with getting the "I'm not over my ex" bomb dropped on me by getting drunk and yelling at people while wearing a purple princess hat
we smoked out of your homemade aunt jamima bong
Chasing shots by shotgunning beers is not a good idea.
I've never seen a homeless man jog to get off the bus and then run to his panhandling spot because he's "late for work," but you see something new every day.
This essay is so getting done. I am spurred on by thoughts of test-driving your newly shaven face by sitting on it as soon as humanly possible.
It's all good. Going back to my room to try and air out my balls.
There is someone hissing in the hallway. Not even a typo. Not pissing. Hissing. Like a large cat. Or a komodo dragon.
My nonexistent future grandchildren will one day ask me when I knew I'd lost control of my life. And now I know.
I curse you to think about Guy Fieri whenever you have sex with your lady.
I'm gonna write a book. Almost Awesome: all the times I ALMOST got laid.
Will you remind me I changed my hotspot phone password to fuckyouprivilegedwhitedude
He just compared fucking my vagina to a snow flake falling on his forehead: gentle.... I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not.
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