I have no voice and feel like lukewarm beer.
He had a number 3 tattooed on his penis. And when I asked what it meant, he said " you know like dale earnhardt, the intimidator".
How was the bike ride?
Nope. High in the basement. Fruit cups.
a small fire erupted but we put it out with a can of beer so everything's fine
I told him "thank you for wearing a turtleneck yesterday, I no longer have a strong erg to have sex with you. " He is no longer speaking to me.
One is full of apple juice. One is full of tequila. This is real russian roulette my friend.
Dude, you chugged an entire bottle of tomato sauce and got us free drinks for the night. No way was I gonna stop you.
i'd say i'm about at weeping-uncontrollably-in-a-puddle-of-my-own-tears-and-urine level
All I remember is passing out with an umbrella over my head and waking up screaming bad luck for seven years
I think the saddest part about my sex life is that most of it is pity sex.
I know he's not here, but I can still see him. I found some of my old stash and its good shit so its expected to see sunlight at night and scary llama men. Midgets or otherwise.
"Accidentally" bump into him after class.
I'm gonna "accidentally" put his dick in my mouth.
I AM SMARTER THAN EVERY FUCKBOY WHO HAS EVER SWIPED LEFT ON ME
You made noises. And kept meowing. I have a twenty minute phone call to prove it.
Hypothetical question: Would it be wrong to tell the annoying children who don't listen to their parents that the motel is haunted?
Randomize
