There are traffic cones in the living room. One of them is yours.
Just spent a extra 20 minutes on the phone with the lady from unemployment talking about how to make the best brownies.
It was like she tried to cover up all the weight she gained with a fake tan...
did you come by the house last night? I found a half eaten corn dog in the mail box.
What the fuck am I going to do with a pinata full of tampons?
Drunk cheerio confetti may seem like a brilliant idea when your drunk, but believe me, the next day, its a horrible, horrible mess.
I don't understand how these people can do extreme gymnastics and I have problems walking up the stairs.
You know, having a conversation evolve from attractive men to roommate orgies would be weird with anyone else, but you get me.
If I'm going to start compromising my butthole it's going to be for much better drugs than a ventolin
His cat kept scratching my feet while we were having sex. There's only room for one pussy around here. It also concerns me that he owns a cat.
You're too young to have this sort of Grizzled Old Drunk In Roadside Bar wisdom.
I wish I knew the extent of my injuries before I climbed over the fence. Might have avoided the need to purchase a cupholder for my wheelchair.
too bad burritos don't cuddle back
You're going to love the baby's room.
I doubt it. I can't have sex there anymore. That severely limits the appeal of the room to me.
Im so fucked up I'm drinking baileys and coffee just to stay awake.
It's 6 in the afternoon?
Randomize
