your parents love me but you hate me
yeah I know. she is a stupid fat trailer trash bitchwhore and I hate her
but when she came up to me in the bar I had to be all like "OMG HEYYY how are you, I haven't seen you in foreverrrrr!!"
but for the record, yeah, I hope she gets mauled by a bear and dies
I was about to go down on her and her dong flopped out and hit me in the chin. This may have a Nam like post-traumatic-stress-disorder effect on me.
I feel like every car around me knows I'm driving in my snuggie
I can't help but be optimistic. I'm like a ball of slutty sunshine.
How many bratwuest were you able to fit in your mouth at one time? It's me, Hans.
Honestly, it's not that easy picking a Saturday night outfit that can translate to Palm Sunday mass. Priorities.
All I really need to know is how to say "where is the bathroom" and "I don't take it in the butt anymore". I think that will suffice.
You fuck like a mechanic. That is the universe telling you that is your true calling. Take this as a sign.
At front desk. Got a beer drinking pigeon.
I'm hoping that by this time next year we will be smoking some weed at a gay wedding, asking "Mitt who?"
Also I've decided that I'm buying the next friend of mine who is dumb enough to get married a live porcupine as a wedding present.
Twist bend and done? Jesus that sounds like a seventh grade hand job.
Crust to egg proportion prescribes to a pedantic form of quiche. It's like saying breakfast pizza isn't pizza at all.
If the people you’re with use the word tequila in a sentence with phrases like hair of the dog or breakfast of champions...run awsy
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