It's like my work doesn't even care about margarita mondays.
when are you leaving homes?
it's 7:51. why the fuck are you awake at 7:51
I had a sex dream about Oprah.
go back to sleep
dude. it was a sex dream. about. Oprah.
All I did was present the dick. You did the work. That's like thanking the pencil for a test you got an A on.
It's tuesday, which means cocktails followed by cocktales.
Dude she's on meds. He has a ginormous penis. Ur A dumbass. That concludes our feelings chat. Dim Sumday?
Hahah what did you even say to him?!
That I was gonna inflate his vagina with a leaf blower?
Oh.
Felt like shit, jerked off, felt ten times better. Being a guy rules. It's like I got all the demons out in 5 minutes.
Dude I sat in the corner of the party bobbing my head and singing danger zone
I just did a jell-o shot with my grandmother. I can die now..
I'm sorry I called your mother a reasonably-priced receptacle.
Nooo. I was entirely happy pretending that my vagina only existed for peeing and releasing Satan's waterfall.
Also, feel like I need to install a nanny cam to remind myself what I did the night before.
Pretty sure I scared her away last night by putting a vodka tampon in my ass
You can’t judge a dick by its balls.
He literally shouted this Viking war cry when he cam. Then as we laid there he sang me the most beautiful rendition of " When Irish Eyes are Smiling". I've never been more confused.
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