sitting in my room eating a boneless rib tv dinner, and listening to taylor swift's love story, and i sharted. had to finish the ribs and hear the end of the song before i went to the bathroom to wipe.
i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
i'm telling everyone you had sex with a puerto rican drug lord
just saw someone puke all over a michigan fan. he didn't even flinch.
its freezing days like this when i seriously consider littering to speed up the global warming processes.
I probably should have cut it off when he started putting queso on my nipples, but within ten minutes I was a self-serve burrito bar.
Just to clear things up. I did not walk in on him jacking off to your facebook profile.
I don't drink so I see St. Patty's as an LSD type of day. Its like a more hardcore 420
What kind of gift says "I'm sorry you accidentally stuck your hands in my puke (even though you should know better by now)"?
to have them in my mouth would be like meeting a unicorn while floating on a cloud of glitter
It's not your birthday unless mom picks you up at the bar
His new girl is probably classy and boring. I bet she doesn't feed him sour patch kids while she wiggles his weiner.
now to finish some work and then i think i'll work out. or garden. or at the very least I'll continue eating frozen grapes and take more drugs
Double-fisting ice cream and wine. Do not send help.
No offense, but I don’t think I would want to see him in anything skimpier than a hazmat suit.
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