In case you were wondering, you weren't dreaming. I really did get stuck between my bed and the wall last night.
i wish i coudl send you meat via computure
I'm still waiting for my blazer that I left at your apartment, you owe me a blowjob for every day from Thursday on that it's late.
Either there is a god and he hates masturbation, or one of my roommates stole my vibrator while I was in the shower.
I was so proud to be driving sober that I wanted to get pulled over so I could tell the officer I hadn't been drinking.
Oh man, buzzed lunch fridays almost got out of hand.
I think they took out their livers years ago and replaced them with like cheese graters or something. Only explanation.
according to last night, I underestimated the size of my mouth and the possibilities of what can fit into it.
I hate being near you and not being able to do what I want. It's like a recovering alcoholic tending bar. I feel like Sam Malone. Except I can't bang the cute chick I work with.
He held the beaver pelt from the fireplace over my crotch and asked his friend "she look familiar now?", he then remembered my name.
You better be making out with him cause we're sitting here with this awkward british girl watching videos of goats singing maroon five
Thank you for the legal advice. I hope I can pay you in blow jobs.
You haven't lived until you've thrown up naked in a hotel room in Fargo while holding your breasts so they don't touch the toilet bowl.
It is getting ridiculous, the elaborateness of the schemes I have to concoct so my suitemates don't know I'm pooping.
I'm her ex, so unless you're interested in her massive moral failings and open season vagina, I'm not your guy.
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