Shoot me. Guy hitting on me with a beaver on his head. Says it is his spirit animal.
Why is it only times like these when I'm scrubbing the cum stains off my futon before my family gets here that I seriously begin to question my life choices?
I'm going to need your assistance. I cannot walk back to the house in a bear costume.
I'm stoned entirely off resin. Licking my blankets. Merry Christmas. Jesus died for our sins. Yay Jesus. I love you.
I caved man... I fucked her so vigorously, desperately trying to correct her wonky eye. My determination was relentless.
You are a terrible person.
I just try to be optimistic...
You know what's even more awkward then buying plan b from someone who is a member at the gym you work at... When they come in after that day and have that look of recognition
I specialize in how to hang out and party with randoms after you've hooked up with them. Not in feelings.
So apparently there is enough alcohol to get me to agree to going to a strip club, but when I have enough they don't let me in.
Well you know I have tits so that's half the battle
I feel bad for her. If you sacrifice and have a chubby husband I feel that you assume he's not going to cheat on you....
I can't find my keys and there's a hotdog in my purse.
He's ready to settle down, whereas I'm like "More shots please"
She just took all of the blankets in the house and threw them in the yard, because 'the grass was cold'..
No dude 10 parakeets in your bedroom is 9 parakeets too many. Bring them back. Today!
Oh please. Preoccupy yourself with my penis.
Randomize
