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.
i have absolutely no control over my now miserable and whore-ish lifestyle.
I checked for jungle juice on Weight Watchers. they didn't have it.
you came in and threw goldfish on our blue carpet and screamed SWIM BITCHES and then made me drink a best friends potion with you
And we hooked up in the carwash. I told you our creative juices were flowing today.
At one point in time, he cried and said I didn't appreciate him.
I love that your last three texts to me were "Drunk." "Getting laid." "In the hospital."
She did my hair, then ate me out. Switching teams was an awesome decision.
Recycling day makes me feel more like an alcoholic than regular days.
It sounds like I am drunk, but I am not. I just have a concussion.
Do you think if I tell the hot Santa at work that I want a sugar daddy for Christmas that he'll get the hint?
You slid down the wall and got into the fetal position. He was definitely judging... I was judging....
future reference: when you get a text that says "WARNING: EXPLICIT PHOTOS BEING DELIVERED. VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED." you always open the attached picture.
You humped everything and cried in an uber.
That's when I realized I was probably naked in the wrong bed
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