Regardless of the degree, it's probably not good to relate so closely to the Steve-O documentary.
He snuck into some random hotel's continental breakfast at 3 AM and then passed out on a bench in the lobby. When the cops found him they made him empty out his pockets. No phone, no ID just muffins.
Thank God. You really dodged a small penis there.
I looked at you and you stared at me dead in the eyes then sprayed febreze at your crotch and winked.
Apparently you can talk a girl into leaving the bar and coming back to your tent, who knew?
It was all cool until he grabbed my vag and started screaming: THIS IS MINE.
I hope they realize that to me "collecting their mail" is synonymous with "fucking in every room in their house, and twice in the party shower."
For months it was all good and well just having sex. Now, something in me has snapped and I'm dreaming of taking turtleneck Christmas pictures with him. Fuck you, we're going out tonight. I need this.
Goddamn you thin people LEAVE FOOD FOR THE BIGGER DRUNKARDS WHO NEED IT
I still think he fell and scraped his elbow and lost his credit card buying 8 hot chocolates for hobos
Ugh why can't people just be grateful for my penis
My dad just said "fuck circus"
He told me if he passed out to wake him by sitting on his face, and if he suffocated at least he would die happy. Found the one.
He said he's in to distance fucking. I thought he just mean long durations. We fucked on a towel all the way down his tile hallway accross his kitchen and into the living room
Don't do it. He's got a dick the size of a baseball bat. You don't want that commitment.
I have to. For the sake of science.
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