if this week's events in iraq have taught me anything, it's that when pulling out, always expect a mess...
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
I feel I need to conquer him. He's six ft eight and 265lbs. Its like the mount Everest of sex.
Either allow it in a formal toast or i will drunkenly tell your in-laws while i'm dancing on their table. either way, the truth is coming out
not exactly restoring sanity, but he is throwing up on the national mall right now
They installed a lotion dispenser in the bathroom at work... its like they want me to masturbate on the clock...
Ok spinning in the opposite direction thatg the room was spinning was the worst advice ever
I'll get him an axe as a present. So he can break out of his closet. That axe being my penis.
You are not going to get a pat on the back from me for not fucking that 40 year old again.
My horseshoe mustache feels at home at this bar.
Three Decembers later, I'm looking at this fuckin Santa lingerie I bought and just realized my stocking never got stuffed....
Idk... he wears anklets.. i dont think i can get past that.
So you were shitfaced and stole a fucking kayak?
I wish I was there so i could bitch slap his incredibly sexy face
last night is slowly putting itself back together. Its one giant slutty puzzle, all the pieces are covered in tequila and shame.
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