Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
please explain to me why there is a shopping cart in my living room.
They high fived mid Eiffel Tower, then we all proceeded to talk about how our friendship is much stronger now. I'd say a successful first threesome.
For the first time ever I'll be using my lunch break to pass out cold on my desk. We've gotta stop having these late night drinking things on Sundays
I'm smoking a bowl and pondering why we haven't discovered teleportation again.
We'll wreck the fuck out of my furniture. How often does one really get the chance to fuck through a table with no negative consequences?
How am I feeling this morning? Well, besides the fact that my vagina looks like a pair of giraffe's lips and I'm walking like an over-confident cowgirl, I'm fantastic. Thanks for your concern.
Oh no, we smoked the revival weed. It came in a Batman bag. It hit like justice. And orphans.
Im gonna get home and destroy this bag of chicken nuggets with my soul.
It's 10:15 on a Wednesday night and my dick is covered in pop rocks. How's your Wednesday going?
That moment when you realize the hot british guy named rory you drunkenly made out with at a bar is American, is named Tyler, and has a girlfriend.
She doesn't even give a fuck about angle. I seriously gotta start doing like penis yoga or something.
All i remember from last night was that i was sitting on the toilet for a good hour eating a philly cheesesteak hotpocket... then i woke up... in my bed.
I just fuked with kevins application and made it say that he does conjugal visits for community service
hey some people donate their time while apparently kevin donates his body
I have two choices: tits or tacos. I just can't decide.
Randomize
