I'm pretty sure there is a country song about this exact situation
so I finished the entire bottle...next thing I know, it's 8 am and I wake up on the fucking beach in the low tide with a family standing about 30 feet from me just staring.
God gave me these boobs for a reason other than for people to throw things down them.
fine. I googled it. you have to eat 5 to die so apparently I'm in the clear.
let's just say I never want to get pulled over and have to explain to the cop why I'm wearing a false beard again.
Something's wrong. Everything's on fire. Unless it was like that before. Then everything's alright.
Nobody knows who the hobo or dude who whipped out his balls is
yeah the little voice in my head screaming YOU NEED TO GET LAID eventually grew legs and started kicking me so to avoid brain damage i had to fuck him
I ate 12 cupcakes in less than 24 hours, so no judgement here.
I know it I should, but it's kinda nice. It's smells like unbridled enthusiasm and copious amounts of melt your face off sex.
If I could drive and get you Starbucks I would... But that's probably not a good idea. On account of the drugs.
words I never want to hear dad say again: "Trevor you sexy man you"
You're wearing a hospital gown and pearls. Let's reevaluate your life.
He couldn't undo my bra. He ended up breaking the clasp he clawed at it so long. We met on Tinder for God sake
Beard. Chest hair. Job.
The holy trinity.
Randomize
