By the grace of god and the ingenuity of Alexander Graham Bell, this text message is made possibe: YOU ARE A WHORE
im trying to make cookies in the george foreman
Using manwich sauce as ketchup. Not bad. Love college.
My cousin's dog just exhaled smoke. My job here is done.
I just fell off my chair and knocked over the table. People are staring. That hungover.
She washed her feet in the sink at white castle. I want this girl in my life.
Turned out not to be so bad. He had a big dick and i owed him for all the free beer over the year.
It was his first time doing shrooms and we made him ride in the truck bed. But he kept standing up and yelling when we stopped so we had to keep driving
THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE AND HEAVENLY LIGHTING IS NOT HELPING THE NOT DEAD POINT HOW DO I NOT KNOW YOU ARE NOT TEXTING ME FROM THE AFTERLIFE
The after life smells like latex gloves and hand soap
I'm sorry I couldn't bail you out, apparenty they dont take credit cards over the phone. Did you at least make any friends in jail?
And for some reason every time I get drunk I just want to tell you that I have a mini secret personal fan club of your dick
Atleast we had sex on the couch before your ex took it from you
Parade of Dicks...that's what I'm calling 2017
Been smoking since 4. The inevitable finally happened: I bought a cheesecake.
DON NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WATCH CLOWN PORN.
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