I just saw how many times I called you last night. You're welcome.
He's drunk and putting on a tie for the jimmy john's delivery guy
Take this only to mean that we love you, but we're having a serious, half-hour, hypothetical discussion about how far we think we could throw you.
There were so few words spoken that I'm not sure if it was make-up or break-up sex.
You insisted on calling your mixture of Bacardi & powdered milk "a Jamacian Facial."
Oh my Christ. I just came so hard my penis stood back up and took a bow afterwards. I need Thai food.
You thought your socks were broken. They were just inside out.
I wish we knew morse code and could knock to each other through the wall
I WANT MY VAGINA TO POUND AT NICE THINGS.
No need to talk. Eventually, he'll either stop coming over, or decide that it's a relationship.
And if not?
...I keep getting free bourbon and great sex with no expectations. You really don't understand that there is no "down side," do you?
AND WHAT FELONIES DID I MISS OUT ON WHILE SLUMBERING!?
It was awful. He had a wife
And now you've had a year of virgin penance. Absolve yourself.
Listen, I've got balls in my face can I call you back
Do you ever go take a shit and end up sitting on the toilet for like 45 minutes wondering what the fuck you're doing with your life?
Everyday my friend, everyday.
So I figured it out. There's two types of shitters. Moaners and grunters. And on occasion there's a third. It's the ill fabled grunt moaner.
Randomize
