4:12a: just got back to his place now. I don't want to talk about it
Some broad at the bar just asked me how much money I make. I don't know whats worse, the question or the answer.
I've decided to film a documentary centered around how he manages to keep that beast caged in such tight pants
I am at a striph cluv. They are ovealls everywhere. I have hot rock botto.
I wonder if I could sublet my bathtub to anyone.
I can't think of anything besides pubic hair fallout. Ugh.
She hash tagged the word blow job in her text. Tonight's going to be good.
dude this night sums up my single life. naked, crying, and covered in honey. i need to get laid.
I could not actually bring myself to utter the phrase "donkey cock" in front of my father. Not possible.
im actually so stoned and hungover i feel like a bag of jello stuffed into a human shape
The beer shits the day after completing the World Beer Tour at Epcot are just as epic as the tour itself.
this whole "benign brain tumor" is truly a blessing in disguise. I almost want to start bringing MRIs to the bar because sympathy pussy is flowing like the nile
Pinterest knows I’m getting divorced
Granted every 20 shifts of working there you seem to be on par to receive some sort of racy satisfying sexual encounter which money can’t buy
He’s exactly what I’m looking for: he’s got a broken heart, a working penis and a new boat!!!
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