Your date looks like the Cloverfield monster. good luck.
I want to walk on stilts...naked
I'm starving. my midnight snack, aka a teaspoon of cum, isn't holding me over
I just keep sniffing it hoping for an explanation.
Our cab driver looks like Kim Jong il, and you're missing a fascinating conversation about Katie wanting to be carbon dated.
The amount of alcohol I'm going to consume on my birthday is directly proportional to the amount of shit I've had to put up with this past year. Which is a lot.
I gave them the 'I used to fuck your son' discount.
you look like you're about to get down on your knees and give america the business.
If I learned anything from that one time I saw the last 10 minutes of oprah when they talked about the secret, it is that you project what you receive back. I also have wine.
I have never thoroughly inspected the geometry of my nipples until now. How do I fix this?
I'm two shots in and wandering around Barnes and Noble with $58 in singles.
His dick's name has evolved from Sebastian to Big Daddy to Barbara Streisand to Barbara Walters. I think the transformation is finally complete.
I swear to god if you eat that last piece of pie while I'm gone I will never speak to you again. I'm so serious.
Were you the one who yelled "FOR GLORYHOLE!" then punched a hole through my door?
Last night I recall my hair going up in flames. This is evident by the burnt hair smell that is following me around this morning
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