@ a funeral. fucking miss uuuu
His idea of a romantic evening was shotgunning Keystones. What a keeper.
I'm walking down the halls of our hotel and listening for sex noises and knocking when I do.
All I remember about walking back home was that I maced my shadow.
All I remember was the chick screaming "don't hookup with him! His dick's the size of a cucumber"
He's a good guy, we stopped by his old church.
And you didn't burst into flames?
It's not like I'm never gonna put out again. I'm a sure thing. I promise.
after that, he'll be sure to remember me. i'll probably forget him, but that's the way it should be.
You kept showing the cop the bruises on the bottoms of your feet and claiming you were a medical mystery.
I think I'm still drunk and I think you were in my dream (sadly, it was not a sexual bill murray one).
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
I think I just legit sprained my wrist from holding myself up while giving a blow J. God dammit come already
she doesn't even know what year it is. She just stumbles around life with a bottle of rum
As I was blowing him, he proceeded to tell me that his friend who I blew years ago gave me a five star review on my BJ skills. And, he agrees.
Atta girl.
I feel really sorry for my toilet right now
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