I had a dream last night that I was the one that killed Biggie
Dear tim. Christina farted and it smells like kid roses.
Too late. I'm going over there. I'm a bad example for all women: Do as I say, not who I do.
Reason #1 for no sex outdoors: Mosquito bites. Awkward, awkward mosquito bites.
Apparently while trying to get up from vomiting in the toilet I grabbed the seat cover for leverage and smashed my own head between it and the bowl. I don't remember this.
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.
Whenever we go out my brain flips on autopilot, straight to blackout.
Step 1: chug a red bull vodka with no ice Step 2: chase that with a shot of wild turkey Step 3: chase that with a shot of tequila
Step 4: your drunk
It all started because he put my damn phone in his pants. By his crotch nonetheless.
Single lady's Saturday night: eat doritos, masturbate, eat more doritos. Do shot of Jager. Repeat until desired result is achieved.
I was dreaming of a parallel reality and in the dream I just looked up at my present self and was like "you're high, man"
After a crazy night, morning sex is just trying to find a position where you can thrust without getting seasick.
I'm only gonna ask u this once. Y is there a picture of u only in superman underwear rubbin ur nipple on facebook????
Uh I can actually explain that one..
dude you pointed at my dad's crotch and said I'd tap that. I didn't even know you were gay.
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.
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