i just turned barefoot contessa into a drinking game. everytime she uses a knife butter or salt i drink.
i just had 3 doubles lined up on top of a urinal, texting with one hand and my dick in the other. I an fucking awesome.
All I remember about walking back home was that I maced my shadow.
im standing in line right now while the 711 manager calls other locations to see if they have the john cena collectors slurpee cup in stock...yep i need to get laid
You can identity the picture as me the mistress his wife and him. It's that kinda awkard.
Ive consumed more rum studying for law school finals than I did that time I fucked that fat chick in the back of VW Beetle. It's all ugly, but for different reasons.
It's like a challenge who can be the biggest embarrassment to the family. I win 80% of the time.
I have learned that if you don't want to hook up with the guy who walked you home, food is great compensation.
She yanked on my limp dick and I yelped, to which she slurred something about starting it like a lawn mower
Great sex, the promise of us mixing our excellent genetics in the future, and access to drugs are mainly what's holding this relationship together at the moment
sometimes it's just necessary to be your own gyno when you're too afraid to tell your mom about your real life
If there was a card that said "I'm sorry for throwing up on your bathroom counter" I would send it to you.
I'm either a high functioning alcoholic or I'm making the most of the fact that this is the last year that its socially acceptable to be black-out drunk five days a week.
It's like jay gatsby himself preordained that our genitals meet again.
You know it's bad when I'm eating a cold chicken breast alone in bed 😕
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