you're like the ceasar milan of boners... you understand them on a different level.
Lesson learned: don't hide your vodka in your little brothers toy box.
i hope not, i just know that at one point I was sitting on the bathroom floor eating bugles and crying because i had no one to show that it looked like I had witch nails when i stuck them on the ends of all ofmy fingers.
all i care about is the story behind my toaster ending up in the microwave
crossing my fingers that hitting golf balls off my pourch was a dream and not something that actaculy happened
This hurricane was the perfect excuse to buy 2 pounds of animal crackers and a case of beer. It's on Sandy.
I need Jameson.
Yea? How do you think I feel? Your job during the delivery is to keep that flask ready. The moment our kid pops out, I'm taking a shot.
I can make a sex schedule on Excel and send it to you guys
I am a delicate flower. A fucked up, drunk, horny, pants pissing, delicate little flower.
The moral of the story is this:the last shot of the night is always a mistake
my nextdoor neighbor called me saying "um hey, your mom just stumbled into bed with me and my husband, can you please come get her?"
I will not go because I am a man of my word and of my penis.
My cat is sitting in the window watching the neighbor's dogs doing it. I think she's lonely too.
Accidentally mixed my gin with cold brew coffee instead of cranberry juice. It’s bad. But I’ll finish it. Never leave a fallen soldier.
This is your post bachelor party survival text. This a free and complementary service to make sure you are still alive. For alive, say yes. For hurting, say ugh. If lost, say help. If dead, please feel free to not respond. Thank you and we hope you enjoyed the party.
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