If I don't come home tonight, I've died in a pile of gay.
New low. Found an ant nibbling on my last xanax. Flicked it away and popped it in my mouth anyways.
I told her I would melt her with my mustache. Needless to say, he pants were soon off.
The last thing I remembered was laying in the bathtub fully clothed with the shower running while he was picking grilled cheese out of my hair. I couldn't figure out if i was more upset about being soaking wet or the fact that my grilled cheese was in my hair instead of my mouth.
Chuck job is nothing more than to be my dick stand when I'm too drunk to hold it while pissing
Um...It has come to my attention that I may have said some rather vulgar things about Sean Connery to you and anyone listening last night, so...I apologize for that. I meant the things I said. But still. Sorry.
I'd rather blow Nickelback than be told he gave me gonorrhea. I'd even post it on Facebook for all of the world to like, share, and judge me.
The only person I have to bring is crazy hospital guy
HE'S NOT INVITED!!!
Sexual favors are the only currency recognized by the Republic of Greg
You'll pass into the great gay beyond
Where it rains cosmopolitans and scantily clad gogo dancers of all genders direct traffic
Welcome to the club of "Sick of cleaning up actual shit." We meet on the 3rd Sunday of each month. Bring your ceremonial viking helmet.
You've opened Pandora's butthole my friend. There's no going back.
When I got home he was in his underpants on the couch, eating pop tarts and crying while watching Voltron.
Worst case: you're extra horny, have no control of your mouth or actions, and maybe murder someone. Child's play.
They were shocked that I could handle my liquor so well. I'm half Irish and half Russian. This is what I'm made for
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