Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
She came to work with 6 additional layers of make-up, playing every Nickelback song about explicit teen sex, and with a dozen twinkies she bet she could finish without chewing any. I'm investing in a rape whistle.
Theres a picture of me with cut up clothes rolling in the policeman's lawn, I missed you, summer.
Please. Last time I saw him I awkwardly pulled his rat tail until it got too weird
Maybe he meant to say like I love fucking you? But just forgot the fucking part.. That's what I'm telling myself.
What's up with the fire hydrant in the laundry room?
Do I not have a Brazilian bc of my boyfriend situation or do I not have a boyfriend bc of my brazilian situation?
In the pictures there's a flower in my hair and also a lobster, I need those things explained
All I'm saying is that any 24 year old guy who sends me a snapchat from the vantage point of his dick with the caption "hiding behind my weiner" is off my list potentially dateable guys.
Just went to my first strip club and they had Fox News on. Conservative booty time.
Sharknado 3 is going to bring us to alcoghol poisonign
Woke up snuggling with a large wooden rhino that I stole last night...obviously, we had fun.
I can't have the last guy who touched my vagina be my coworker.
I think he was trying to be romantic, but the candle he had lit was the kind you use to repel mosquitoes..
Whats a little breast milk between friends?
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