There are the 2 BIGGEST tools by me-- at our table. I hate them. But they're not ugly and I may make out with them later. And hate myself. Definitely hate myself.
We have sex, then he cooks. It's like a fantasy.
I told her I'd give her some of the cream I was using so she didn't get my warts. That's when I realized I was too drunk.
Found a pint glass in my snow pants.
He kept trying to order 'sex on the tennis courts' for a drink last night
He says I tipped the waitress ten dollars because she "smelled like pigs in a blanket."
Let me be the 15% helpful, 85% useless as shit angel on your shoulder.
He had bigger boobs than me last night and we both weren't wearing a bra so it was a fair judgement
Nothing like a false "my-dad-found-my-weed" alarm on Christmas day.
Well his arms broken so they only cuffed his good wrist to his belt. That's how he cast smacked me in custody.
apparently they stopped looking at spit swabs under the microscope in bio ever since they found a sperm cell in one students sample
So I just sneezed blood everywhere. On the upside. After yesterday I feel way more confident AND I give even less of a fuck.
She was doing hand motions and used straws from drinks like those airport light batons to have me back my "747 jumbo dick" towards you.
Im pretty sure breakfast wine is a thing, and if it isn't, I just invented it
Ahhh, the bane of our relationship.... His mediocre penis
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