I'm pretty sure there is a country song about this exact situation
i wrote her a fucking poem. i better get laid for that
I do not want to touch your penis after this conversation.
you were leaning against the vending machine asking if there was a shower you could puke in.
I can't believe you just thanked me for a blowjob on my Facebook wall...
Im eating the cereal I found in my pocket and drinking wine out of the bottle.
He doesn't need to speak English. He needs to speak sex.
to whom it may concern. if i am dead in colleens bed it is not her fault i slept in my scarf. my dads middle name is ronald.
New level of stoned. My Terry's Chocolate Orange didn't 'whack-and-unwrap' so I ate it like an apple.
I pulled out moves I did not even know I possessed, our fucking de-throned gods
I'm done being drunk I wish I could snap my fingers and be sober
If it makes u feel any better my dick feels pretty tender dude
Nah, just stick him in a closet with some cheetos, a blunt and soda. The darkness will calm him down until Mallory can be located.
because nothing says “let’s fucking rage” like getting a compensation letter and some company stock
Clearly the Stanley Cup Finals good luck hand job IS necessary. You let the whole team down.
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