so chris just stuck his hand between rachel's legs and yelled 'TROUT!' and we were like...you're wasted
Do you realize that we tried to rent a limo at 5am to come and take us to waffle house?
So I told her I dislocated my shoulder and she said "well okay. I can either be on top or blow you."
Decisions, decisions.
You spent most of the night crying and throwing leftover meatballs at the neighbors dogs
We ran out of wine so we are trying the absinthe you brought over from Spain like 3 years ago. Please call me at noon tomorrow. If we die, its your fault
I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.
You know what my problem is? I'm like a machine designed for the sole intention of removing the pants from damaged girls.
That's the international "my vagina is unoccupied, come talk to us" chant. You have your mission. Go.
I'm pretty sure my lung is caught on my rib. And I can't feel the left side of my face. Best. Sex. Ever.
Invite that kid who wants to become a priest. I WANT ON.
Old men love us. For they have fine taste and disturbing minds.
Lock the bathroom door next time you are going to masterbate with the shower head, okay?
I was just power-washing my vagina.
I wanna die. I can't recall the last time I was happy that doesn't involve your hand touching my butt.
We could probably bang our way to enlightenment. However acid helps.
the walk of shame isn't very shameful when your mom tells you she's proud of you.
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