Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
She's making her own pesto again. Cooking spaghetti in the microwave and "frying" vegetables in the toaster oven. All this while wearing the yellow rubber gloves and saying that the pesto has feelings like a real person. Im terrified.
tried to order jimmy johns from the ER last night, the nurses did nottt approve
stopped you just in time from sledding down the roof.
I may only be a second year med student but I feel very confident in calling that a micropenis.
Blacked out, Had to be carried out of the bar again by two large black bouncers. Asked them to be my "boo thangz" Again.
My liver is crying. And I feel like I got fingered by Edward Scissorhands. While he was wearing brass knuckles
I paused mid sex to tell him I wished I'd taken up barrel racing so I could ride better.
Watermelon juice. Makes everything better. Gin. Wine. EVERYTHING.
You know what's awkward? Being with your girlfriend and seeing her ex-boyfriend that she left for you while you've got a Ron Burgundy level awkward boner.
He wouldn't stop calling me so I sent him a text saying "I'm dead. Dead. Leave me alone." And he replied with "so can I see you then?"
Gramp just called her sex-on-a-stick. AKA HE CALLED HER A WHORE. My 75 year old grandfather just called your ex's new thing a whore.
Congratulations, you have turned my vagina into a garden hose.
What's a nice way of saying 'I wish I hadn't fucked you.'
I’m going to give his broken heart CPR with my vagina
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