I'm home with mono, wearing knee high socks, shorts, a stained old shirt, and a surgical mask. He comes over ANYWAY with soup, a gas mask, billions of DVDs, and eats me out. He's either stupid, whipped, or i'm just THAT good.
He's paying me $45 to clean his room and $55 if i find the oxy that he lost.
My last google search last night was 'vodka swimming pool'.
my mom took me to a gay bar and went on and on about all her good times at clubs... i now know where i get it
So apparently after he gets hammered, falls down a set of stairs and gets a concussion, he can still come home and find a way to play his guitar solo bullshit as loud as possible while i seduce my date...
hey, do you know how many packets of jello it takes to turn a handle of vodka into slutty girls?
There's just something about a dollar tree pregnancy test that screams THIS WASNT PLANNED!
You got called a pussy at a party with a slow cooker, you can't let that shit slide
This is a mass text. I will facerape you if you bring me Fierce Melon Gatorade and 4 D batteries.
I actually had to tell him that sex doesn't replace my Tupperware. Our relationship has reached a weird level.
You're never the same once you're dry humped on the frat house floor
You don't come back from leaving a bag of shit on someone's counter Jill
I kind of just assumed by how he whisked eggs that he would be bad in bed.
I've never been so turned off by an omelet.
I really want to stop getting this drunk. I've got the Sunday scaries and it's only Saturday
And my butt misses you like the deserts miss the rain.
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