It's not a real calculator it's a math calculator
Let's hear it for middle of the street handjobs ladies and gentlemen
he's 25, hott, and leaving for iraq tuesday, i wanna get in as much as possible...
your life is a nick sparks novel waiting to happen
You kept running into the wall most of the night. When people asked you what you were doing you told them you were the kool-aid man and there was little kids on the other side of the wall who needed your juice
she just totaled her parents new car because there was a bee in the car. So she crashed into a light pole to kill it.
At this point I feel like i'm never going to be sober, and it's frightening
And then I interrupted the father of the groom, to ask if she was "ballet or pole" in the middle of his story about his niece, the dancer.
My corndog is like a popsicle of bread. A WHOLE. POPSICLE. OF BREAD.
You sat there for 20minutes trying to seduce the picture of my dad.
So I commented on one of his pictures "who do I have to give a full effort blow job to, to get the Ides of March movie poster behind you" he responded with a number that wasn't his. I still texted it. I love that movie.
He put up a Facebook album attempting to sell off their Harvard furniture. Items for sale include: his friend, a broken lamp, an item described as a 'carpet and/or sleeping bag', a pair of paint stained cargo pants, size 'Tyler', and a self proclaimed $3 bottle of wine, which he is offering for $2
This is Jewish guilt versus Irish Catholic guilt. We should tread carefully, or we could fuck up the space-time continuum or something.
I'm okay with that.
You flew out of the bedroom, stole two Solo cups from the beer pong table, put them on your feet, clicked your heels together three times
wow thanks for pushing me towards an older man
you gotta start somewhere if you're going to be a trophy wife
I, soberly, gave myself a concussion trying to take a pic of my vagina. Fuck you and your hangover.
Randomize
