and that's why we call him explosion in my pants. no one remembers his real name.
he kept farting in my kitchen and blaming it on the dog. then we went to wendy's and he spent twenty minutes in the bathroom. im pretty sure he shit his pants.
you should have known when you found out he drove a mini cooper not to hang out with him.
I hope you shit your pants in a socially devastating situation.
i walked into his room and he was eskimo kissing his weed..
So I gave him a handjob and now we aren't friends anymore
You're at Notre Dame. What did you expect?
We call it "Dishes: Hard Mode". Basically whoever is doing dishes gets head but needs to finish the dishes before they cum.
And so far nothing been broken!
I just shit a hot coal. Pretty sure it's that fireball shot from yesterday.
For once I am not in the mood. My vagina is good with life at the moment.
The apocalypse has arrived.
I also love my swipe to text changed a singular vagina to a plural vaginas. like my phone somehow knows I secretly want 2 vaginas
Was just told that I slept on the counter using a loaf of bread as a pillow. Clearly my life is going well.
The moment when you and your BFF compare frequently used emojis and realize you have similar mental disorders and a really weak alibi.
How do I say "I want to suck your balls" in a classy but sexy way,
the girl who hid my weed when the cops came has a birthday coming up. i feel like i should get her something.
Been smoking since 4. The inevitable finally happened: I bought a cheesecake.
I often wonder if we’re introverted extroverts, but I don’t think so. I think we’re just easily tired scumbags
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