So I'm pretty sure I fucked the dept of homeland security guy on my kitchen table. No recollection of it, but there are signs.
Just heard a guy on the phone saying " ya ill buy the eight ball " then came to my register to ask what asile the sugar substitute is on.
The pine trees are waving at me.
Put the pipe down honey.
Hi trees.
he told me my vagina was like a beautiful piece of salami
And with me just getting pulled over and you maxing your card out on tennis balls I don't know if we can afford it
i just had a pap smear and two shots. lets hit the beach.
I really appreciate you zipping up my pants at the bar. You didn't even ruin my Bermuda triangle.
it was fucking weird. cops showed up but they appreciated our 3 story bong. and then some girl tried to steal our cheese and butter
Are sex swings allowed in dorms
he shit on the floor last night i'm not venturing down there
Also he didn't buy condoms after we ran out last week. Luckily I had one, but I told him he should be more optimistic about getting laid
How long do I have to listen to him talk about the chickens before telling him I just really want to fuck? Note: it's already been twelve minutes.
I think he just shit his pants. Yep he did. That's unfortunate.
I wasn't that drunk.
You were calling my cat 'Simba' and holding him up in the air.
I feel like you should store your weed in something that suits your personality. For example mines in a hollowed out disney princess book.
Randomize