Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
i just renamed my vag "the sorting hat"
I rubbed one out into an envelope and mailed it to her. Game point, I win.
you were on ground yelling about how close the floor was to your face.
We used the solo cup bag for her hair tie. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
His penis is small and he doesnt like Harry Potter. HE HAS NO REDEEMING QUALITIES WHAT AM I EVEN DOING HERE
I'm drinking wine from the cap of my laundry detergent container, wearing my bed sheet as a cape. How do you think I'm taking it?
It's a "nonproductive" (vocab word) cough. It's like a constant tickle in my throat, like there's a little elf with feathers for feet going Gangnam style on my "uvula" (vocab word).
Our first crop came in on the day that they added Hercules to Netflix Instant, I think it's the universe telling us that it approves of us growing shrooms in our guest room.
Note to self: don't try to shave your legs when sex-sore. You CANT reach, stop trying.
Puking in the Ritz Carlton bathroom was actually kind of a nice experience
I'm sorry I told you to go fuck yourself after you said good morning to me when I was hungover.
She's walking to the bar while holding a fifth of fireball, talking on the phone and puking like its nothing out of the ordinary
Dude, never piss off a hungover boss.
Put down the Captain Crunch and get over here. It’s a dickfest!!
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