If Billy Mays did an infomercial on your dick, it still wouldn't get you laid.
part of me always dies a little when i go to the "2 women seeking 1 man" section in craigslist's casual encounters to find nothing there. it's tragic
I'm someone's dream girl. I'm hungover in this guy's bed wearing ONLY a Brian Westbrook jersey. Not the same I was on a date with last night.
Nope, just sitting on the couch, eating an advent calendar, being depressed about the herps.
They're pole dancing on a handicap sign post.
He turned down jacuzzi sex. He cares more about my vagina than i do.
Just stared at a tree for a solid 5 minutes because I thought a German Shepard was perched on a limb.
I'm going to empty my bank account and roll around in the cash. Want to join?
Need to spend sober time with him while fully clothed. I can't decide if he's a seriously amazing man or a complete fucking dickbag.
This is me not judging you for what a fine line you draw between the two.
Also I've been at work for an hour and I've already been "honey"d "babe"d and "beautiful"d by three separate men. Apparently hungover with yesterdays make up looks good on me.
He told me he loved me and then peed his own bed. So at least it was a memorable one night stand.
That was when I yelled "Wisconsin powers activate!" and took off sprinting across the ice
If you hear death cries, thats me singing. Just let me be.
HAM AND WEED HAM AND WEED HAM AND WEED HAM AND WEED HAM AND WEED HAM AND WEED HAM AND WEED
Being drunk at Chick-fil-A is a dystopian experience
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