We all just poured out a sip of our drinks for you. One for our pussy whipped homie.
You came in at two thirty, wearing your underwear and a tie then asked where you could find a sombrero and a pair of stilletos that would fit your men's size thirteen feet.
You took a fire extinguisher off the wall in the hallway to play Ghostbusters.
using blue streamers we found on the bathroom floor was probably not the best substitute for toilet paper.
No clues in my phone. Only dialed call: my own social security number. And that was before 10:00pm.
I just got a huge discount at GameStop for having tits. I win.
she has like 12 pairs of underwear people left at her house from the other night
At least I got to make out with you a little before you proposed.
I'm not drunk because I think my blood just is alcohol from last night so being drunk is sober. If that makes sense
no one ever believes me when I try explaining to them that your straight. I'm all like, "yeah that's his girlfriends dress he's stretching out"
Yeeeaahhh, I'm in no rush to dismiss a level 6 booty-call that pays my bar tabs and understands my Harry Potter obsession.
If blow jobs were a super power she'd be in the Justice League.
Before getting out of the car, she said "Thanks for getting me off." I like how polite she is.
I wonder what dick looks like without astigmatism?
Stop talking and go back to bed. You're in the kitchen in your underwear and slept in your car.
Randomize
