I am watching the symphony and have decided that violin players probably give really good hand jobs.
so the last visual we have of him for the next 87 weeks is him outside on the ground rolling around yelling I HATE BLOWJOBS
we went to get a refill in his room and ended up having sex and passing out. then he woke me up with sex and gave me a beer for breakfast. i never want this to end
Idk what else to talk about besides you paying for half of my vaginaplasty.
I wore sweatpants. When I show up to a booty call in sweatpants there's your warning
You straddled the banister and fell down the stairs, then proceeded to crawl back up them, I think you need to lay down
Bro, you're like, my right testicle. Can't go anywhere without you.
I'm eating tortillas right now. Like not cooked tortillas. Someone is playing the guitar. Man with bandana.
It also means I'm watching porn with mario earphones so i can hear. Possibly the best way to mastrabate EVER
I do feel like I owe you an apology for trying to fuck your dad last night but in my defense everyone knows I shouldn't drink tequila.
I'm eating cereal out of a cocktail shaker. That kind of blizzard.
I couldn't read the menu. I ordered the first thing I was able to read. Don't think I ate anything. Left $20 on the table.
I only know one person in my class and that's my dealer.
Did you ever hear the story about the time I did blow in a bar bathroom with the #1 ranked golfer in the world?
I woke up handcuffed to a bed wearing nothing but an army belt. Does this count as thanking our country?
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