So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
suddenly SuperBad didn't seem so funny anymore...she did have her period on my leg.
Sorry about your blender, your tiolet, your weed, and your dog...
I'm eager to hear this explaination.
I ended up staying at a police station for being a witness in a public masturbation case..NOW do you believe me that I've never had a good St. Patrick's Day?
i just found out the cashier has a picture of my junk in her phone.
All of her cloths were on our coffee table this morning. The only things she left with last night were her shoes and Scott
to instagram or to not instagram the picture i took of when i shit in the urinal
Meanwhile I'm working a fucking flute workshop and I'm one high c away from shoving a flute up the asshole of the next passerby
Looks better than the half a blow job I got the other night which I had to finish myself. From a chick I refer to simply as "mom jeans".
Aaand now my client contact has seen your boobs.
Who knew that the guy I fucked on your front lawn during welcome week freshman year would turn out to be my husband
if becoming an adult is chugging a bottle of wine in your bed and crying about your stresses while your dog watches you, sign me up
It's like if you wanna bond just do a ropes course or have group sex you don't have to be weird about it
at least he now gets to tell people how he once threw a party so epic that the next day they had to clean some girl's body paint off the ceiling
My son's girlfriend just thanked me for having good penis genes.
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