please tell me that the half empty jar of cocktail sauce on the table has nothing to do with my missing seamonkeys
My bracket is officially just a list of teams that lost.
Boys can't fool me. I know "want to come up and meet my dogs?" is just a nondirect way of saying "come up and meet my penis".
I just want dick. Yours just gets priority because it is glorious
If by "in control" you mean him showing-up to work wasted, calling a customer a "fuckstick," and getting fired on the spot? Then yes, he is.
Let me put it this way - if I had a list of things I would like between my legs, she would rank below the cello I turned into firewood sophomore year.
I want everyone to love me, and THEN I will choose who gets to eat me out all the time.
There is blood on the door to my room, I have to go to sleep
Judging by the progress I've made since I woke up (none) I'm thinking this hangover may keep me in bed.
I knew full well that at some point during the night my penis would be out with this costume choice
The only math I use in every day life is figuring out how much I can spend on alcohol and still have money to pay my bills. High school lied to us.
the reputation of my dick game is on the line. You're killing the team, here, G
I just showed this kid my nipples to work my shift tmw
if I was a good friend this would be the time that i would remind you that you have a boyfriend
I woke up this morning and my house is covered in shredded cheese with my laptop open and a google image search for "awesome shit".
Randomize
