There is something about listening to Patsy Cline while pooping that makes the experience so much better.
Whatever. They have the same name, so it's not even cheating. It's brand loyalty.
I saw your purple underwear in the road this morning.
Probably, but last night was a special kind of drunk. It was a "let's see how drunk I can get without killing myself" drunk.
She thought someone was breaking in but when I said it was me she got even angrier and threw a coffee mug at my head.
On the back of that comment, I've formed a theory that as a result of my brainwashing your drunk self actually believes that beards are your calling.
He's afraid of heights. How do I know, you ask? Blowjob on his roof.
He told me the color of his piss. Worst. First date. Ever.
That girl from the bar sent me a text saying that she wants to wear my cock as a hat. A cock hat. Is that good or bad?
Dude, i don't know. I don't remember anything after we started chanting/playing "shot of gin."
My new hangover cure is going for a haircut, just so the stylists give me a scalp massage during the shampoo.
That certainly explains the nine times your hair has looked different just this last month alone.
I think I just gave my niece a weed pinata...
I have chicken nuggets, lube and brand new batteries, he can stay at work charting all weekend for all I care, I'm set.
Knowing there are different types of spiders in different countries and regions makes me never want to travel.
I feel like a weird modern Betty Crocker. I'm icing a cake and looking at gay porn, if that's not an accurate portrayal of the 21st century idk what is.
Randomize
