Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
smell my finger.
U just looked at me and said "wake me up when I'm done eating"
nothing says roomie bonding better than a sunday shroom trip.
He has in a pan: ten pieces of bacon, two cloves of garlic, an egg (not scrambled or hard boiled, just an egg) and frozen corn.
im like basted in vodka, i went tanning and it was like i was an alcoholic turkey being cooked in a locker of doom
usual friday morning routine. the pants i wore last night are in my passenger seat and im rooting through the pockets trying to make exact change at the dunkin donuts drive thru
I remember halftime. Then I woke up in Spain. I need a drink in order to process this.
Apparently "dick me" was not the response he was looking for.
Yes. That was the exact moment of my conscience clicking into instant high alert.
I was telling everyone at the frat that they had to try the "fantastic refreshment" that was everclear, vodka and country time
woke up with 8 used magnum condoms bound together by floss around my neck, thats about all im gonna tell you.
a day off where I don’t get laid would be worthless
It’s only loud for those who wanna get loud. The bowlers are protected.
I broke my dick don't ask me how I need help putting in a catheter so I can piss.
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