I wish they made portable blow up dolls for girls.
It's called a dildo, genius. Go to sleep.
Just so you know, the bottle of red gatorade is NOT GATORADE. It is definitely someone's puke. I hope nobody else makes the same mistake I did.
he woke me up at 3 am to ask me where my plunger, a towel, and staples were. i'm afraid to go into my bathroom.
where are you?
sonic
Good. I hungoveredly cleaned your room. This is what being married is going to be like. I pick the condoms up off the floor and you bring home the hot dogs.
Sorry about your blender, your tiolet, your weed, and your dog...
I'm eager to hear this explaination.
I need to stop treating my body like that of a Vegas hooker on vacation in Ibiza
Note to self: Don't go home with a recent divorcee. Semen and tears.
Maybe if he'd step up his game and get a real job instead of donating plasma and trying to grow pot then you wouldn't feel compelled to write prisoners in Oregon.
I now have a bottom rung on my kissing scale. Like I can say "Well. On a scale of Matt to Braxton he was probably a Zach." It's the little things.
On the plus side I'm getting really good at painting the inside of a toilet with my bowels.
the girl whose rug I peed on is here
My book, "How to Live With a Huge Penis" was delivered today. Can't wait to read it in public.
I'm prostituting myself for tickets to Disney World. There's a contradiction there.
You thought they were asking for volunteers for a karaoke contest so you jumped up not realizing it was actually a "last 3 minutes boxing match". But you took that right hook like a champ.
I'm hungover and eating lunch at an elementary school. The children are barking. Litrealy barking, like dogs.
Randomize
