There comes a time in every man's life where he has to shit in a catbox to prove a point.
If there was chocolate on Regis Philban's dick, I would totally lick it off. That's how desperate I am for some right now.
It's American, baby! There ain't nothin gross about America.
Don't feel too badly. Until twenty minutes ago my paper was a heading and a pizza order.
we were walking and you spelled the word "oats" to prove you weren't drunk.
2 things. 1. I just gave her a 6 hour long marathon fucking for America. 2. Thought of a new invention halfway through, and it's flawless.
For the record, saying you're friends with the owner doesn't work when the owner is the one throwing you out.
sitting in my room in a shopping cart. they couldnt get my legs out of the holes. i want breakfast.
I just want to point out that nothing makes my hickie/hangover more obvious than sleeping in a scarf and sunglasses. nothing.
You're the only person I know who would be upset about making out with a girl you like. You're like a drunken Charlie Brown.
When this bachelor party is over and your life is in ruins, you have my permission to die.
And then, I saw the prophecy come to fruition. It was the Dick of Destiny.
either i huffed spraypaint or ate out that makeup artist. you decide.
The only thing I like when I am high is sex. And Cheez Its. But mostly sex.
The guy in the cage next to me is having phone sex. His girlfriend is in College Library. Why is my life ridiculous.
Randomize
