So I just had this crazy idea, and no it has nothing to do with the fact that they made me take shots at work.
I feel like people whose favorite movie is Donnie Darko should not be allowed to talk. Ever.
I didn't realize how hung over I was until I rolled over and the world rolled over with me.
I swear it's like I have a jerk off quota I have to meet each week. If I miss three days I have a wet dream and it's like a wasted jizz, and it gets everywhereeeeeee.
I'll be honest, not actually surprised to find half a Big Mac box and bits of broken security glass by the sofa.
Had dinner with my ex husband. The box of wine is gone and I'm laying on the floor in my wedding dress. Where are you?!
Just promise me we won't die tonight. I can't have an autopsy report that reads "stomach contents: Tequila and semen."
I left puerto rico a week ago and my vagina still smells like coconut.
I don't want to get into details but it feels like there was a bear mauling involved. A very good bear mauling.
Its a little weird going to a wedding where I've screwed the bride and my wife has screwed the groom. Great wedding though.
Russell brand is gross. Everytime I see him I just wanna give him a bath. He's like a used condom.
He's the first man I've met that knows more about Harry Potter than I do. He shops at Goodwill and has a Game of Thrones cookbook in his apartment. This is my soulmate.
He's like a father figure to me, except we have casual drunk sex every now and then
Sexting is killing my work productivity but it's okay because I'm self-employed
Did you mean to say flashlight? Or did your grandpa really give you a fleshlight for your bday?
Randomize
