I got chris browned last night
: I need to find myself a plastic surgeon husband so i can get boobs.
but u need boobs to get one in the first place.
I ate one of your animal crackers. just one. ok four. but no frosting. ok frosting.
i asked why he had a giant piece of popcorn duct taped to his head and he said "No, it's actually part of my neck." so no, i didn't fuck him.
So, after having sex with my 4th overweight girl in 2 weeks, I've decided Charlie Sheen syndrome is ruining my life.
Homecoming wouldn't be the same without all the drunk old people puking on the street.
Thank you for making it possible for me to get laid while having peace of mind my dog is well taken care of.
Living room floor. I asked him to give me a back rub. He did. And smoothly transitioned that to foreplay, then basically threw me on the floor. My vagina hurts. He deserves another Christmas present.
That's why you bone lesbian cage fighters and 45 year olds. To make life less boring.
I heard the bride mutter "I should have brought a fucking tranquilizer". I'm not at all surprised that you got banned from the bar afterwards.
When I told her I was deaf and took my hearing aids out at night to sleep, she said it must be nice not having to hear drunken roommates having awkward sex late at night.
This Asian instant coffee I found in ur kitchen is like crack. Who knew I could feel my heart beating in my asshole after one cup of this happiness.
Starting to realize that fucking everyone I come across isn't the most... "adult"... coping method.
Coffee and girl scout cookies. Breakfast of champions.
Get fucked.
There. There is gum on my butt cheek IT IS NOT MINE
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