i'm stoned. there's a jazz trio playing outside across the street...scared that mike myers will appear & start yelling 'woman...WHOA MAN. WHOOOA MAN.' i'm snapping my fingers.
I was in a threesome last night that turned into a violent domestic dispute with damage to a hotel. Wish you were there!
"reccomended dose" hasn't been in my vocabulary for quite some time.
I think you blew our chances when you yelled "YOU SLUTS COMING TO THE TITTIE BAR?" in their face
Oh, and no balcony sex...trust me.
You should make cookies and when I get home we can have a slow motion hug and eat them
playing nyquil roulette. it entails taking shots of nyquil and hoping it doesnt kick in during sex or in public. game on.
You mAke me stone. Stone fuck fucking stoned. I'm an stoned you cuz now fucking stoned stoned fucking stoned I stone.
Then he texted me that I was the "good kind" of fat.
I met my future husband in an elevator. Think Hispanic version of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew from the Muppets, but with eyes like Michael Fassbender.
So he noticed that I cut a half inch off of my hair. Guess who just earned himself some road head on the way to the twin cities?
Don't take advice from me. I'm simultaneously shitting and eating cheesecake.
I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I blew a Trump supporter.
Somehow I just turned an entire McDonald's bag upside down in my car and not a single fry fell out. The Lord really does work in mysterious ways.
Having Father’s Day on Pride weekend is always so awkward. “Hey dad just calling to say I love you.” While I’m navigating my way through a pop up pool at a bar riding a penis floatie. Happy Father’s Day.
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