I just sold a pizza for the ability to listen to spice girls.
Fake titties should be able inflate and deflate like tires. So on Saturday you can put on your Double D hooker titties or Sunday put on your size B church tits.
I wouldn't necessarily call it an addiction, more of a passion. I'm habitually passionate.
Covered in gravy. Never pour gravy while drinking.
Oh they knew you from a bachelorette party! You were the pole?
Ohhh shit yeah that was me. Fuck. I hate myself when I do that.
But you have work tomorrow. And a whore to pick up. And a dinner to eat. And a vagina to slaughter. Your day is full!
I appreciate the concept of vaginal slaughtering.
Im rolling a blunt of encouragement for you to return to
After the Patriots lost I punched him in the face. But I still feel like that isn't a good reason to dump me.
Hey I'm not sure why your jacket's covered in maple syrup but I just realized you didn't leave the house earlier wearing a jacket...
Post walk of shame: realized the underwear I put on when I left was another girl's underwear.... woof
This is Jewish guilt versus Irish Catholic guilt. We should tread carefully, or we could fuck up the space-time continuum or something.
I'm okay with that.
I also woke up on my floor. Naked. On a pile of clothes. With my head in the trash can. And a sheet over me.
You what they say. One dick in the hand is better than two in the bush
You are lucky that I'm drunk. Otherwise I would bone you into another universe
You told me that you would let her eat cake off of your ass, then fell asleep on the floor
Randomize
