am i at home because theres a dig starrrrring at me and i dont know wit plus i haer sirens. run fast.
it sounds like her vocal chords are covered in pudding and rocks. come get me.
got arrested for "breaking and entering" last night when i supposedly went into the wrong house made a sandwich and tried jerking off to porn on the tv...the cops told me they came in while my dick was out...oh and i missed work this morning and got fired
walkin around the woods blazed, drawing pictures of trees and plants, i get a grade for this
our landlord thinks we're weird & alcoholics. he came in to fix our broken tub and saw the laundry door on our table for beer pong, the garbage bag full of empty fifths, and that one armed baby on the doorstep. plus he saw us swimming and yargging in our pirate pool that one time.
Woke up on the floor holding a sandwich. Shots. Never again.
we need to drink more beer. the fridge wont close.
We didn't have beer, so we played mini-beer pong with shots and frozen peas.
I love my boobs, they're the only thing that supports me. They make me a solid 6.
I know, but the fabulousness of my baggies should not be what defines my business as a drug dealer.
my last search of the night was "the physics of green eggs and ham" what the fuck
he's a fucking beast. people that don't even know him have started calling him "puke and raleigh"
Taylor Swift needs more songs about threesomes. I'm not sure she gets me anymore.
i texted "amiibo vore" to my insurance agent instead of someone else. do you think they'll raise my rates out of disgust?
I mean, I was expecting a little more coke snorting and a little less kids and cake
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