I woke up this morning with I hate myself feeling
the thought of Anne Coulter teabagging Dick Cheney kills me everytime.
you just love her because she lets you bang her with fruits and veggies!
capt morgan doesn't hurt if you honestly believe it's golden flavored kool-aid.
What I'm saying is Afghanistan is America's sexually contracted disease.
The gay bar tender told me I looked like Prince William. And that I needed my balls licked.
Good. We don't answer calls at dick thirty.
I'm sober. Being kissed by a chick with a llama puppet. Shoot me now.
I hit a child with a fudge sickle from a moving vehicle after he flipped me off, I feel like a God. Tell no one. My partner didn't see it.
We're super invested in me shitting to my full potential
he just left the suite without pants on wrapped in Christmas lights
THIS IS AN AMERICAN HORROR STORY I CAN'T FIND MY VIBRATOR ANYWHERE WHICH MEANS I LOST IT WHEN I MOVED WHICH MEANS MY POOR VIBRATOR IS OUT THERE IN THE WORLD ALL ALONE RIGHT NOW WHAT AM I GOING TO DO
at the time fanning him with a dish tray seemed like a good idea but when we found it buried in the dirt the next morning i questioned our judgement. needless to say he still threw up even with the extra breeze.
before i went to bed i wrote myself a note that says 'i feel all swirly'
If I shall die, I wish to bequeath to you my personal library, my sigma tau delta presidency and all it's apparel, and a puppy.
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