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.
She threw up a whole curly fry. A. WHOLE. CURLY. FRY.
My dinner guests were so drunk they never realized that I inadvertantly put Frosted Mini Wheats on the salad instead of crutons.
Just say you're the husband at the front desk to get in. She's in room 15 at the ER.
what? who is this?
Hahah fuuuck, bag pipers played around me while I threw up. Literally
So should I finish watching Space Jam and then get head? Or get head while secretly watching Space Jam?
I don't have patience to seek someone out and try to decipher whether or not I think I'd want to actually have their dick in my face.
Dude. Why is there a hamster in my pocket? WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THAT JOINT
It has been so long since I got any action that I have decided to change my vagina's name from "the chamber of judgement" to "the cave of forgotten dreams".
hey, being drunk and dumb is my thing. Don't take that away from me.
You were too drunk yesterday to deal with me crying so I am too drunk to deal with logic.
As pissed as she was, you would've thought I was trying to get back into his pants instead of his booze collection.
when I called the strip club they said there was a note with my credit card. "girl who punched guy in throat" fuck daytona
She made me pour olive oil on her.
he broke off the kiss to ask "can I grab your boob?" like props for asking for clear and concise consent but there HAS to be a sexier way to do it
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