And then I have a slight inkling that I went up to the bar and tried to order the bartender.
Just saw a drunk guy marching down the strip with a garden rake. I feel compelled to follw him
i just wanna lock my vagina in a safe filled with bandaids and healthy things
We left the bar, went to a sex shop, bought penis shotglasses, went back to the bar and insisted that the bartender used them.
I'd really appreciate it if we could dress up as pilgrims and indians for the thanksgiving eve bar crawl
Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I didn't share a weekly margarita with my mom since i was 12
please visit steve this weekend, he is getting mature and responsible and shit which scares me.
Just purchased ketchup, body wash, and lube. Hope you're ready for the post-memorial-day-cookout-shower-anal.
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
Dude I'm riding a fucking tortoise this is awesome you should come with me more often
I don't have to hold her hair back as she blows me but I do have to hold the ball on the Santa hat
I walked around with red solo cups on my feet, weeds tied around my neck and a tree in my hand
I am 95% sure I just heard my cat say "What are you doing home? It's Saturday night."
That makes sense.. A good Bj is a trump card in any argument
I'm wearing jeans from 7th grade and drinking a fucking macchiato. This better be a good day.
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