It was like a mary poppins bag, except a sexual mary poppins bag.
The Mets? Come back? That'd be like Nickelback writing a good song.
your address is 607B right?
yeah why?
i need to tell the guy bringing over the flaming bag of dog shit where to put it
like in an apt above a crackhead. A LEGIT CRACKHEAD. he woke me up every morning this week asking me if I wanted to buy a mini fridge and some CDs. at 5 am. EVERY DAY.
I feel like my lungs want to punch me in the vagina.
is that even a sentence?
Woke up next to a tiki torch spooning a plastic flamingo on a welcome mat i've never seen before with a "happy valentines day" balloon tied to my wrist, oh yeah and "i am a cougar" is written on my chest in sharpee and all the kitchen furniture is upside down...
Just stared at a tree for a solid 5 minutes because I thought a German Shepard was perched on a limb.
I can feel your movements against the shared wall we are leaning up against. It makes me feel as though we are one. Queue Pocahontas song...
Nothing says happy valentines day like waking up to a naked man you hooked up with taking a walk of shame
Good. Go forth, young stallion. Destroy the vaginal region with your tidy crotch.
We climaxed at the same time during ain't no mountain high enough. Does it get more cheesy or domestic for a non relationship?
Dude. That's like masturbating until the point that you're going to climax, then stopping, waiting for a few seconds and then starting all over. While that does lead to an altogether more powerful orgasm, it's still annoying as hell until you get there.
I was not expecting that analogy.
No one ever expects that analogy.
So. Um. Hypothetically speaking...how would one get a squirrel out of the house?
I just saw puke on the road at the same stoplight i threw up at sunday morning! Makes me smile inside.
He picked me up in Smart Car with the license plate “MYWHIP.” I think my ovaries shriveled up and died.
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