I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
she doesn't hate you. She just thinks you need a personality adjustment, speech therapy and weight watchers.
Mission leave-the-puke-on-the-floor-til-the-dog-eats-it completed. I work smarter not harder
i gave him the "yep, i was your girfriend's collegiate lesbian sex story" head nod
I think one day, after evolution kicks in, my sons will thank me for having a 3rd ball. That's how much sex I'm having.
I'm not upset because i like you. I'm upset because I can't use you for the sex anymore.
for me, it's working out the tricky timing of the Viagra and nightly laxative.
He stared me down while singing "Let Me Love You" to me while we were having sex. I don't know whether to marry him or file a restraining order.
That which doesn't kill you gives you an excuse to get shitfaced later
Just want to apologize again for asking to spot your form in the shower.
So i walked around campus drunk and alone last night eating pizza and a lunchable from 7-11. Sat by the flag pole and drank an entire liter of water, took off my shoes to prance around in the fountain, then stepped in dog shit on the way home...barefoot.
Listening to The Little Mermaid soundtrack should cure my drunkeness right?
You sluts I'm so proud of you. You're both wearing underwear.
I despise everything about her. Except her tits.
Just got drunk at the Cheesecake Factory again. Made me think of you.
That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.
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