I just got hit by a car and apologized to the driver. I asked him if he was okay.
I told him the truth. Truth leads to vodka. Vodka leads to tequila. Tequila leads to prison.
fun fact of the day: the man setting up my checking account at my bank has thrown up on my front lawn.
It was a cry at the bar alone type of night, served with a side of passing out facedown in my nachos.
OMG HIS EYES ARE POOLS OF SEX. HOT SEX.
Don't get me wrong, I love talking about lube and such, but why are we?
I don't have any bail money, if that's where this conversation is going
He has blue eyes of sex and i am powerless against them
Doesn't tell me where my computer chair went but good to know
I haven't even had my coffee yet and you're being slutastic
This morning I woke up in the entrance of a retirement home. Memory fragments from last night: making it rain with the contents of my wallet over the bridge, getting hit by a car, and a lot of running.
I think he should just go away to a small penis island and never come back
Cant leave im designed bacon maker you come here
Typical Sunday morning text...are you alive?
Then, even the devil himself would be scared of us. And we'd be bestfriends with Jesus. He would love us.
She calls him the walking dildo to his face. That relationship is already fucked up.
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