The producers of Marley and Me owe me about $5 million. That's the dollar amount of embarrassment compensation required for making a 24-year-old male cry publicly on an airplane while sitting in the middle seat between a gorgeous babe and a guy with a do-rag
he literally just asked me which v neck he should wear tomorrow.
He tried to carry her to her room after she passed out, but when he picked her up she came back to, saw him, screamed rape and pulled out her vuvuzela app and blasting it like a rape whistle.
Our dealer is pledging my frat. When he come to sell me weed I make him take out the garbage.
I need to stop smoking. I just talked to corn.
I feel like a food baby is going to burst from my stomach and eat all the leftovers until another food baby rips out of its stomach. And so on. It's truly a merry Christmas.
Ice skating? Did you see me last night? I don't even know where my socks are
Fuck Sunday funday. Fuck real pants. Fuck the sun. Fuck Jameson. Fuck my life. Yes, I am hungover as shit sitting in my office eating bacon.
Febreezed myself at a stop light on the way to the IRS office. Judgmental glare from some old lady in the car next to me, thumbs up from her husband.
Some kid just stopped wherever he was walking, turned to me, and gave me a slow clap. So I'm pretty sure my walk of shame beats yours.
I woke up in an apt hallway this morning and a nice lady brought me coffee cause she thought I was homeless
his brother walked in while we were fucking on the couch, told me i had "lovely jugs" and offered to make both of us a drink
can we just punch him in the dick and call it a victory for feminism
You peed on a pole and declared to a cop that it was your pole and yelled at him to not even look at it, and then yelled at all of us for looking at it.
Thank you for deleting me from Instagram. Also, I'm carrying your child. Happy new year!
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