This was worse than the time that I shot a bald eagle.
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
long story short: there's a file in the master file cabinet labeled "lube".
I cant. There's fences everywhere and I think I have a boyfriend. Its fabulous.
Not even desperate vagina wants small cock.
Glad to hear you raised your standards
All i remember is Liz dragging me home yelling at me, crying, and barfing
Just smokin in the creek with some deer, they like the smoke, I know.
They need to leave so I can start drinking shamefully.
I feel like i just got chewed up and shit out by a ukranian midget
If you have shit your pants within the past two years, please take a seat.
She can't brag about all the anal sex she has and then expect me not to awkwardly stare at her boyfriend when she brings him around
I have alcoholic tendencies but you know what? College
currently working on a look that screams, "I'm dead inside, but still trying to enjoy the ride"
So how do you explain to your boss that Siri called him mid sex?
You tried to ride his dick and fell off. Then tried to ride the floor. That's why he hasn't called back
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