We can make salsa ya know, maybe even some hot sauce. That doesn't mean we're married.
my mom just informed me my dog smells like cum
two more shots til everyone in this club gets to see my cesarean scars.
so he was shitfaced and kept using sticky notes to label everything like "beer spill" and "going to fuck later"
benefit of terrorism--they won't let you buy random one way plane tickets to random parts of the country for no reason nonmatter how high you are.
She transformed our coors light pitcher we stole from the bar into a fruit basket...
making an indian outfit so we can be pochohantas and john smith and fuck in the canoe on the night float
I don't care. I'll text you about my butthole whenever I please. That's what you signed up for in this relationship.
I got a second ticket last night for drunkly using my one call to order a pizza and get it delivered at the police station
I am just going to stick my boobs out and hope for the best
He lured me round with the prospect of sex and then made me proofread his CV and spoon. I fucking hate this guy.
I s2g I’m about to get ghosted by a 34 yr old and my Oedipus complex cannot take it
its not much but to go through all that to ask for half a balls worth of money was so stressful
Only you would offer whiskey to a man in liver failure.
He is farting the alphabet right now. In the goddamned restaurant. You don't get to recommend men anymore. Or restaurants for that matter.
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