There comes a time in every man's life where he has to shit in a catbox to prove a point.
when my professor asked "does anyone know what streches across south america" and a kid in the back row said "my exgirfriends vagina" i knew i was at home.
I passed out in the VIP room and she charged me for 17 songs until I woke up, theres a bouncer asking me for $700, fuck tequila
Im not gonna remember this tomorrow but the real money is in coke i wanna get a dark wood desk and cell coke then i can own taco bell and the xxl chalupa will be mine
i always knew that i'd have sex in your room, i just assumed it would be with you
I think it got a little awkward for her when my dad walked in on us and did nothing except leave half of his pizza on the table for us.
i woke up and saw you were brushing his hair naked. I can never pass out around you, man.
Bone him for me, BONE HIM TWICE FOR ME.
Serious questions. Who is that girl? Why is she wearing a tiara? And why does she keep asking about penis piercings?
The worst thing about him living around the corner is that who ever suggests the booty call is the one that walks over.
THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CAPSLOCK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD TO EXPRESS MY CURRENT STATE OF WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED
the bar didnt serve shots so jim ordered us jaeger neat. it worked.
Go to a building you've never been before and take a shit. It's marvelous
i now understand why vodka
Im eating leftover Easter ham in a bubble bath. What has my life come to?
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