he kept looking at my chin until i asked why, then he just said he was making sure his balls didnt leave a mark.
All I had with a note saying that my shoes are in the ceiling and good luck.
My only regret is that I have but one penis to give to your vagina.
I'm so tired of waking up with my bed full of deli meats.
He had a tramp stamp of his own phone number. You can't tell me that isn't smart.
I had a face to face conversation with her vagina, asking it not to make me look bad.
Oh, and apparently I was butt ass naked and walked into the room where anna was skyping her dude in afghanistan and said "This is happening."
Liquor doesn't fix sad, but it sure as hell lowers my standards for a rebound.
I'm going to CVS to meet the Craigslist guy who is going to buy my underwear. If I don't text you within the next hour, plz assume that I have been abducted by a stranger with an underwear fetish.
It's 11:50 on Friday the 13th. There's a full moon. AND the bride to be just puked on herself while getting a lap dance from a stripper named...wait for it....LUCKY. Is this real life?
Man I was just the closest I've ever been to crapping my pants.
It was like the icing on a beautiful fuck boy cake.
The sex was so good I feel like I could run a triathlon, hit big at the casino, and defeat ISIS.
Oh no. Did we do a blood oath again?!
I've been drunk texting you for weeks, and you watched me puke outside your house... I say it's time we meet in person.
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