Moving to Utah. Got sick of alcohol and have a severe wife shortage.
You know the gilmore girls would be alright if it was on mute the whole time
my mom just emptied my water bottle filled with vodka into the turtle tank.
"Hung over, tired and having a faint scent of some body butter and random pieces of glitter from a girl named gigi, almost arrested in drug bust, $40 Canadian in my pocket and all i got was this lousy Tshirt" shirts dont exist, but they need to
He measures volume by how much weed he can put in it and surface area by how many people can have sex in it.
We don't have a ruler. Come downstairs and lay in the snow with a boner so we can see how much snow we've gotten. Put your 8 inches to a less shameful use.
He turned me down because he was still doing his taxes.
I'm fucked up. I can't drink anymore. We stole a cat.
Yeah, clearly. And then we can float around my room on Christmas themed inner tubes. And drink, I guess.
Listen to me plotting my whoredom.
I figure a girl that drinks as much as I do should always have pregnancy tests on hand
Something tells me your "Titties for Tracy Morgan" fundraiser won't pan out.
He lit a candle for the mood and ended up lighting my hair on fire while we were hooking up...moodkiller
I love him about as much as I'd love fucking myself with a cactus.
I want to ride his face like a jet ski
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