I think I just was a dick to Paul Rudd.
I haven't even gone in yet. I'm sitting in the waiting room playing a game i like to call "Who else is here for AA".
we talked for like an hour, i feel like we really bonded. i mean i was simultaneously giving him head but you get the point.
i need to buy one of the child leashes to wear at mardi gras or else im never making it out alive
that trick or treat candy bucket that we used to collect beer money last night was very helpful when I vomited in it this morning
Moral of the story: If you're gonna throw a glass of wine in a guy's face, don't do it in your own kitchen.
Charles Darwin would shit his pants if he saw that we managed to survive that weekend.
The last text I sent him was about nachos. Frankly, if he can't respond positively to that he can fuck off...
Imagine getting a FB inbox "hey I found your ID on the floor of a bar can you send me a mugshot so I can get a second piece of ID made?"
I'd rather be sodomized with a fullly decorated Christmas tree.
When you woke up the first word out of your mouth was "whoa"
I was feeling the aftermath of his penis
You're the air beneath my wings and the lookout when I pee
I'm determining which apartments I'm mostly to move into based on how suitable the kitchens are for sex .
it was awkward when he was taking off my clothes and i had to help him undo my fanny pack
you were making out with a girl because you told her you were part of Nsync
Randomize
