Midget Michael Jackson impersonator dancing to Beat it in Penn Station almost caused me to miss my train. God, I
we made malted milkshakes. malt as in malt liqour.
If I knew losing weight would mean this many fucking creepers I would've just stayed fat.
Things we need. Powerade. Water in fridge. Mixers for vodka. And reality checks.
Aw lol. Sounds like my masturbation injury last year
I'm hiding out in the living room until he falls back asleep. If he catches a whiff of my tits, it's all over. I just need to play it cool. Babies can smell fear
You know when you can feel the alcohol in your toes? That's a great feeling.
She just tried to talk over a fart. The fart was way longer than the sentence she originally wanted to say so she just added gibberish to the end. Gross
I approve. Last time I was there, I left E's room to get a drink of water. Found M sitting on the kitchen counter in his boxers hammered and eating a banana. He proceeded to feed me the rest of his banana then went to bed with the lights on. You two will be great.
Next time someone asks you what your spirit animal is do you really want to answer the iowa state fair butter cow?
He said he cried as he watched porn yesterday; I'd say he's taking the break-up pretty bad....
On the way home she told me she was in kindergarten when 9/11 happened
I yelled at him as he left "you broke up with me. You lost your blow job privileges"
There was one thing about my NYC trip I forgot to tell you: I took a dump in Trump Tower
I think someone is dead in a car across the street
Scratch that, dude's getting a blow job
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