Who would have guessed that ordering a vodka lemonade at Roscoe's was code for I want a hand job
You keep asking me questions like I have this magical thing called a memory
we ate a 40 pack of string cheese and watched an entire washing machine cycle.
Watching Blossom reruns on YouTube. Eating Pringles dipped in hot chocolate. Not taking this breakup well.
I had a great penis washing session in the sink before I left. Washed off all the bar and green beer
Man, I must say, having known you since preschool, Eiffel-Tower-ing her would've fully completed our journey to brotherhood.
And tell the hostess not to worry, she's narcoleptic and fell asleep on the way to the bar, but she'll be fine in a few minutes.
Just puke out the sadness. Like a fuckin dragon.
From one hot mess to another... Get it together.
No just a slight sexual miscommunication which led to a little (lot) vomiting by one party and a bruised sternum on the other party involved.
I can't even make a guess how that goes.
Im like a hedgehog. Easy to corner or get within reach, but tough to get right close to. Like a rooster with its feathers surgically replaced with razors
Well. At least he's a gentleman. A gentleman satanist.
Nothing like walk of shaming to the bus stop in your bar clothes at noon and seeing the fire truck you work on drive past with the other shift giving you thumbs up.. Brotherhood at its finest
It's not even a normal fucking affair I've found myself in. It's a fucking bdsm clusterfuck.
Gotta say, self-deprecating Lord of the Rings-themed sex jokes were not on my agenda for today.
Randomize
