please tell me that the half empty jar of cocktail sauce on the table has nothing to do with my missing seamonkeys
My pussy is not your playground.
the hot woman interviewing me is reading jokes off the back of laffy taffy.... I'm getting laid and possibly a job
I don't give a shit about soccer but I'm really excited about drinking at 7 in the morning
then they caught me trying to hide the turtle in the fridge
I've decided to tape numbers to the bottom of my heels corresponding to the number of drinks I can safely consume in them.
You should get with him and swear you have to use lambskin condoms. That'll test his veganism.
Hurricane my ass. I'm riding a god damn kayak down the flooded highway if it's the last god damn thing I do, god damnit.
I don't remember its real name, I just call it the Harrison Ford Cush after that idea with the Indiana Jones mask. I should just get high and sell people my ideas for their Halloween costumes all the time. I'd make a fucking fortune.
So we have also come to the conclusion that slam piece Saturday's are the appropriate follow ups to find a husband Fridays
Yeah. That's the shitty part. God, I don't want to be a step mom. Sure I'm great with kids, but I just want unlimited sex and not have to worry about making friends with a fucking 7 year old.
That's a lot of judgement coming from a man wearing a dress made from a bedsheet.
Bank just called....we left my debit card in the ATM last night.
He makes furniture for a living and is basically a hot, younger Ron Swanson
you know you’re single when you try to cook yourself a nice pasta dinner but you’re too weak to open the container of sauce and theres no one around to help you
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