What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
I'm sorry I didn't make it out, I got distracted by sparkley boobies.
Best friends brother. Beat that.
I'd say this is worse than that time when I realized that my favorite bath toy growing up was my Mom's douche bottle.
No, she passed out instead. I have the worst luck, its like Jesus is mad at me for having the same birthday as him
just walked past the recycling bin in class, there's keystone cans in it. go cougs.
I guarantee that wasn't the first penis someone placed on her forehead.
Gym?
Sweet baby Jebus, no. I'm Motley Crue hungover. This must be how it feels to rail a line of ants.
If you can get her to make out with you without paying for it, I will personally make you president of the american lesbian league
I AM A HOUSE CAT. I CANNOT DO THIS LION BUSINESS WE CALL THE SINGLE LIFE
Because the guy guy doing the drawing either wanted to bone, or wanted us to stop entering the contest. Either way, we got concert tickets so I'm cool with both scenarios.
we're drinking bellinis i mean god's titty nectar
I'm daydrinking whiskey in a princess hat
We can't go back there. Ever. No context required, just know it's true.
You cannot steal the fun of my nakedness. You do not own my nakedness. My nakedness is my sole property and I share that fun with whom I choose.
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