His bookmark is a piece of toilet paper. No shame there.
when i spit it made a heart shape. i think it's a sign
He made me a "booty call of the year" award.
When you hit the 45 minute mark of any argument about The Flintstones, you have to realize: it's no longer you arguing, it's the cocaine arguing.
Let's just say trying to drink my weight in apple pie shots looked better in theory.
Remind me to switch to jello when you decide to do shots off my ass. It's so much easier to clean than this pudding.
just got home. some guy on my porch is tryin to show me his balls. no more parties at my apartment.
I just saw a black chick with an eyepatch. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
I've found my spirit animal. I'm a Snapple bottle. If you take my top off I'll tell you a fact about science.
All I know is I woke up with his business card in my bra and in my handwriting on the back it says 8 inch.
I wish our county sheriff had a comment section for their mugshots.
I should probably eat a Plan B. Pill for breakfast. Happy Halloween.
How long do I have to listen to him talk about the chickens before telling him I just really want to fuck? Note: it's already been twelve minutes.
I swear to god my spidey sense only tingles when someone’s about to die or you’re being a hoe.
you're telling me you don't want to have sex 30,000 feet above the earth?
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