I wouldn't necessarily call it an addiction, more of a passion. I'm habitually passionate.
When she showed me how she could touch her toes without bending her knees, suddenly her face didn't worry me quite as much.
Just so you're aware, tomorrow is "Slow Clap when you see Mike" day.
We don't need a hotel, we'll just sleep in the post office.
Dude I am not desperate enough to pay my dealer in change. Maybe tomorrow.
Last time I sleep with a guy with a penchant to fragrance his dick. Every time I sit to pee, I get a whiff of Axe body spray.
Dude he fell into my wall and left an imprint then decided to have sex with the door open. Vents carry noise pretty well
I'll just save you what dignity you have left by letting what happened die with your lack of memory and/or liver.
They don't even know who I am but they just woke me up with maracas and invited my boobs to a kegger
oh the usual. high as balls and crying about the hunger games.
But I mean how many guys can say they get blow jobs and grilled cheese with football
I'm currently trying to figure out a way to fill the bathtub up with mashed potatoes so when he comes over he'll know what's about to hit him..
It just makes sense. It's like I end a relationship, and wash myself of sin... with tequila.
I walked in on a circlejerk after punching that guy out. Instant karma.
Not sure she's stomping around my apartment muttering incoherently about wanting to speak to the colonel
Randomize
