Everytime we come here you have an ex here.
I wouldn't call it sex. It's like when you put a plug in a socket half way. It's not all the way in but it still turns on the light.
He was wearing his Class of 2007 shirt so I sat there for 5 minutes and read all the names of the guys I can remember giving head to.
Hung over does not do it justice. I am hung like a horse over. I am hungover and over and over. I am hung, drawn and quartered fucking over. They just told me I can't keep my sunglasses on in the office. Fuck drinking with you people.
So you met him?
More like I walked in on him, drunk, naked, and doing "bathtub yoga". Please stop bringing your dates home.
Like do you realize his dealer came out with a gun and we laughed like it was all just fun and games...
The goal for tonight is vagina. In and around. Doesn't matter who. How. Or why.
Some guy is here using a taser on people. I'm up next
I want to name my colorful bowl Batman. Why? I still have yet to figure it out. But I'm calling it Batman.
Mom and I are both drunk and walking around the Strip. It's like the hangover but with a lot more bathroom breaks.
Like he held up the condom afterwards, twirled it with his finger, and said "look at that load"
There's nothing more awkward than going on a beer run with 3 ten year olds....teacher of the year right here!
I think someone tried to make a huge bowl of ramen in my bathtub. There's noodles everywhere in my bathroom.
Do you want me to add this to the list of actions I will state at your intervention
Truth. Though I have held steadfast to the notion while the rest of you wavered. I had faith in his homosexuality.
Randomize
