Last night was a blur. All I remember is jizzing in the squeegee bucket at a gas station.
The look on the soccer mom's face was PRICELESS.
Note left in log book: "4:30am a guy was caught masturbating in the bathroom and passed out in his own juices and we had to take the door off the hinges."
You guys are open that late?
I ride home in a shopping cart. Don't at like you aren't jealous.
She's the barista slut.
I can't. I can't get out. He cooked me food. And made me jager bombs. And painted a glow in the dark smilie face on my boobs
he broke up with her mid blow job, and somehow convinced her to finish. I want his life
I thought 4 percs were too many but I'm dumping Gogurt on apple pie and taking giant bong rips. This feels right.
Be proud. You give fat lesbians everywhere shower-nozzle worthy material for weeks on end.
I threw up in a mitten on my drive home. Wow.
Was I at least a good cuddler? Like at least honorable mention?
Not gonna lie, Wednesday was the perfect day to get laid off, all I've done since is watch the Simpsons marathon
We got a noise complaint for vacuuming too much but not for getting really high and yelling about peanut butter
I'm about to order this penis-casting kit so text me within 5 mins if you're not down
Did that sound smart? Cuz beneath the boozy exterior beats the heart of a fucking scientist.
Ya i'm marrying the man who can hear/smell this level of flatulence and stick around
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