i wonder what barack obama's brickbreaker high score is...
I had a wet dream about my mom last night. words can't even begin to discribe how scarred I am. what. the. fuck.
When you get home we need to compare our schedules and set up masturbation slots. I'm scares of you walking in on me. Again.
Weed smoke burps in the boss's face. Job security.
Oh they knew you from a bachelorette party! You were the pole?
Ohhh shit yeah that was me. Fuck. I hate myself when I do that.
I just want to sit my fat ass down at McDonald's and never leave
8 stitches. Next time I decide to twerk while doing a keg stand, stop me.
My mute roommate is using sign language to ask a guy to fuck her.
My mom and sister were over. When my drunk roommate came home, he yelled "GOT BITCHES IN MY CONDO"
I've sold more douches working here than one man should sell in a lifetime
cake and sex. what better combination is there.
I feel kind of like we’re in a gang and tonight is one of those “people are gonna know not to fuck with us” type of nights. And then tomorrow I am going to learn to pole dance. I’m not really sure how I got to this point in my life… but I like it.
The only words we could get out of him as he stared catatonically into space were "Everyone I know and love is dead"
Is it wrong for me to wish my cat had arms to get me a beer?
You know he wants it bad when he starts going door to door for condoms.
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