my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
So i'm in mason getting an ultrasound.. and there are a bunch of hicks in here with their wild ass children and this one young mom yells at her kid "harley sit!"
You should introduce yourself as garth. As in garth brooks.
Upon hearing of his newfound access to every orifice... even ones he just made up... the Grinch's penis grew three sizes that day.
I learned much from the teen babysitter: I can light a cigarette in a microwave.
You don't understand, Single Ladies is like the Don't Stop Believing of the gay community.
I got to work, greeted my staff, then went into the bathroom to throw up. Who hired me to run a business???
There's a hand-carved wooden bong in my backpack, and i really wish i could remember last night now.
I found them on a couch next to the sidewalk screaming at cars with a megaphone. Kevin chased the mailman with a jello shot.
So you plan on doing double washing machine sex? Like. A double date. But with sex. On a washing machine..?
He stole the megaphone off an ATM then we drove around so he could tell people not to jaywalk.
Chicken salad taco, you know, when you're out of bread and crackers, and high.
You don't understand. He was so ginger that he could make red hair a dominant gene. And I refuse to torture my future spawn like that.
We still on for coffee?
Cream and sugar. Deliver to planned parenthood in 45.
Now back to adults eating hotdogs.
Questions: How did Rachel get home? Why did I find both her ID's in my shoes? And does anyone know if she's alive?
Randomize
