I'm about two and a half drinks away from gay.
I'm coming over.
I looked at my own cervix.
By the way the awkward moment from yesterday is now a bad situation I have to figure out.
Thank you Grey Goose.
I walked into cold stone and the guy started preparing a supersized birthday cake remix for "Mrs. Munchies"
remember to ask your mom about the name of her pet duck so we can name the bowl
I cannot start working out. If I start to look better, I'll ruin ugly women's chances forever. So, really...I'm doing them a favor...think about it.
I just told the toilet I loved it. Bad sign.
I needed 3am water. Not 3am shots of rum.
2013: the year of legs covered in hair and pregnancy scares.
Welcome to the club of "Sick of cleaning up actual shit." We meet on the 3rd Sunday of each month. Bring your ceremonial viking helmet.
I came back from England with a face tattoo and the only thing anyone can talk about is my beard.
He referred to his penis as "The Purple Headed Yogurt Slinger." I'm both disgusted and turned on
I still have that dildo-suction bruise on my forehead and this sweater STILL smells like my Christmas Eve vomit.
Plan b and 5 hour enegery breakfast of a champion
I had perfectly good intentions but my penis had other ideas and now I need a place to crash what do you say
Randomize
