I'm half single.
Please tell me it's the bottom half.
everything was going good until you started showing off the pictures of poop you took with your phone
His bookmark is a piece of toilet paper. No shame there.
They just both started mumbling "i cant go home like this" "it's all over my face" "do you have extra pants?"
On a lighter note, my mom and I were playing scattergories, and for "things that you keep hidden" we both put dildo. Proof that we really are related.
You told me if you could get your shoes on, you deserved a coke and rum. We never made it to the party.
It's gotten so bad I typed my will out on my phone in case it's over.
Just discovered evidence of drunken eBay bid. Drunk Mike did pretty good -- I'm getting a new sleeping bag.
He's getting Easter eggs filled with weed or Jell-O shots for his birthday
I'm going to write a new song and call it "Did I wax my vagina for this?" remind me to never go across the country for a penis ever again.
the bright side of moving is at least my Tinder options will refresh
I think you're literally the first guy to ever pick up a chick from pinterest.
She rode me like a jockey on that tiny couch. Then we spooned.
My mom found your leather pants in our guest room. She doesn't want to know why they are there, she just wants to know if you want them washed.
my face feels like mints and my body feels like tingles
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