as we were stuffing their 24 of beer into our bags you kept saying you wanted cheese strings. closest things we found were kraft singles. as the guys came up the stairs you kept screaming 'GET THE CHEESE! GET THE CHEESE!'
It wasn't a wasted relationship. I got road-head in an Escalade. I still keep that with me.
note to self: an IV pole is no substitute for a stripper pole. Written it on my ankle cast.
I no longer see him as a simple set of male genitalia attached to a very sexy body. The title "trophy fuck" seems wrong. Damn.
Like I feel like I use my high IQ for the wrong things
I'm gonna die. First I'm gonna throw up. But then I'm gonna die.
For future reference, don't put tape on your nipples. Ouch.
Let's FaceTime each other while we shotgun beers
You danced?!
I just jiggle to the beat like a sexy lava lamp
I'm sorry for getting drunk and throwing a robo-bird at you.
She was topless, yelling this is Sparta, threatening to push her dad into the sewer. I am pretty sure she won't be at school.
PLEASE LET MY BIRD FUCK YOUR BIRD
Stop recording sex noises and setting them as my ringtones. This time it was at a funeral
I'm a mess. I mean I almost got off but I'm a fucking rubics cube down there so il givenhim the point
are you still alive?
no.
i'll cry at your funeral. and leave a burrito by your tombstone
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