For some reason, Oliver from Hannah Montana reminds me of pudding.
That's cute.
All I know is it had something to do with a plunger and tuna salad. I'm done. I'm quitting my job.
You threw a hot dog at his face...I wouldn't call you either.
I don't know what to be prouder of: the fact that last night i was able to successfully find my way home from evanston with 3-d glasses on, or that i was able to make my way around my house in the dark with my pants around my ankles
he's gonorrhea incarnate
My text message history should be ashamed of itself right now.
oh you know, the usual stuff. getting kicked out of bars and sleeping in cars.
Oh yes there is. Now I'm the sad one. Please organize my life. And I will demoralize yours.
The point remains that this is the setup for some great stories
Or terrible, horrifying, traumatic experiences
great clearly means different things to us
Last night I went to spank her while she was riding me and sack-tapped myself.
We go out, we get drunk, we watch Star Wars, we pass out. What's wrong with this tradition?
I don't think I'll get invited back. I drunkenly told her that her kids would be perfect for a pro-abortion campaign.
You're going to find someone that you love very much and that loves you, and then you're gonna find an additional person that you literally can't stop staring at from across the room. I feel very confidently about that
I'm not talking about Donald Trump in the midst of sending you nudes
As soon as he called me 'darling' in that Scottish accent... my pants just dropped.
Randomize
