Alex, there's no such thing as a fancy sex store.
You were so drunk last night you typed www.face.come/cheese.com as if you were logging into facebook.
I don't even know why I got my vag waxed
Ugh, tell me about it. As each day passes and the hair grows more, I get a little more depressed.
Weed smoke burps in the boss's face. Job security.
you woke me up at 7 am banging on my wall.. what the hell
thats the international knock for joint time
we're almost there. Shes pounding on the car window telling the nurse whos on a smoke break to fuck off.
So as I left the Australian's hotel room, I said "Welcome to America. You're going to do just fine here."
Dude you better come get your girl, she's sitting here eating a tub of pasta salad muttering to herself about gypsies.
You don't have issues. You're a consenting adult having sex at work. Go you.
All of my friends are hooking up and here I am, the lone asexual, looking for someone to eat these tostitos with me.
Nothing says "I'm sorry for shitting in your bed" like an Olive Garden gift card
I'm like, not good at living.
The not so cute guy next to me made me play Kid Rock on the jukebox but I'm a big believer in free drinks so I obliged.
You coming to give me head and eat tacos?
Could someone explain to me why there were 40 individually wrapped burritos in the fridge when I woke up this morning?
Randomize
