I'm at subway, this 8 year old kid is judging my fashion sense with his dad. I want to kill myself.
It's ok, he's just 8, he's not judging you.
He just asked why I'm sitting alone. I honestly want to cry.
Talk me down man. Writing a paper drunk and about to buy Celine Dion's greatest hits.
I asked you how much you drank and you replied with "I don't know what kind of toothpaste I use."
He left his own bachelor party to bring me weed. Then smoked with me. Tell me I'm not his favorite-ex-friends-with-benefits.
He is crying over the toilet and his friends just came in and tried to make him take another jello shot.
Quick! What do I wear on a 4 hour road trip with an older guy in the army I had pantomime sex with in a hotel a few months ago?
"Douchebag of the Year" award goes to the guy who didn't reply to the picture of my tits.
All three of my roommates have their significant others over. We're all hanging out in the living room. It's like I'm the trifecta of third-wheeling
But, if I start dating you brother, I can't talk to you about the sex anymore!! Like... Can we talk about it anonymously?! I just won't use his name.
Also he said my vagina was sculpted by gods so there must be some feelings here.
It's almost sad. It's like the Harambe of vagina stories really.
Every time I try to do something productive I end up searching ghost porn.
yea, she was legit pissed that her rasberry vodka ice cubes never actually froze. but we couldnt convince her otherwise.
Hey how're your balls?
Don't ever let me helicopter again.
What?? I could've slept with an ordained minister!
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