My sheets at my parents place are clean. No braveheart but I can paint myself, yell "freedom", and sword fight you with my cock. So come over.
If hangovers were people John Goodman would be living in my skull trying to eat the back of my eyes
im trying to pick out the cookie crumbs from my adderall. it is a lot harder than it seems.
Also how the fuck did i get like 30 brown napkins
I can't believe all I ate yesterday was half a turkey sandwich and 20 finger licks of exctasy.
Thursday nights need to stop happening to me.
i dont even mind you always shaving my pubes when i pass out, i'm starting to find it liberating.
I AM OBSESSED WITH PORCHES. YOU ARE OBSESSED WITH PORCHES. HOW IS THIS REAL?
I can't figure out if I'm dying from all of the booze still in my system, or from the cement wall.
My office already closed tomorrow. I'm bout to get drunk and build a muh fuckin fort. I shall call it "Fort Fuck You, Sandy, You Fuckin Bitch"
It's like your nipple is comforting my nipple.
Apparently when it was last call I jumped up on the bar and told everyone to get the fuck out, which was immediately followed by a round of applause from the bouncers/bartenders and my tab getting paid as well.
He left for work so I drank pickle juice from his fridge
Definitely went down on him last night while he was wearing a cape. He randomly kept swirling it around me and "revealing me" in the mirror like a magic trick. I'm not even a little upset, it's fun fucking younger guys.
Also I literally googled "how to fold socks" so that's how my day is going. How's yours?
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