I feel like your standards for women is like rent-a-centers standards for credit.
The mall is playing a fucking country mix of lady marmalade.
welcome to maine.
similar to the time we made up the game of screaming at the top of our lungs any time a guy any of us slept with walked into the party. that went over SO well.
My piss changed color midstream. Think that means I have a 50/50 chance of passing the test?
In your drunken brilliance did you make bagel with what appears to be mac and cheese smeared on top and pink icing dip? Because if so it is sitting on the counter
I gave myself a pep talk in the library bathroom mirror. and then threw up in the sink.
She was eating whipped cream out of a plunger at 3 am in the morning. Yet somehow she still had an elegance about her.
Whatever, consider condoms an eighteen year investment.
I could probably save all of the money I would have spent on condoms and put a kid through college.
Plus, it's just valuable. Virgin pee is very well-priced.
going on a mission to find my pants and the guy who stole my beer don't wait up
I'd do them all but honestly I'm so high that I probably should have a chaperone.
we could do so many fantastic illegal things together. sexually and otherwise.
I think the best course of action at this point is to cut his balls off to get him to stop reproducing
We've been taking shots, cranking Marilyn Manson, and eating your bacon. Your kid is probably ruined.
He woke me with blue berry pancakes and a blow job. He's a keeper.
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