Some guy said that sham wows were the same as regular shammys. needless to say you had to be restrained. you kept trying to 'slap chop' him.
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
I wish there was a lawn mower version of Roomba so I could just drink and cheer it on from the stoop.
I was in bed at 845. Affairs take a lot out of people
This is the way my sobriety ends: Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
I guess I gave him a 20 minute play-by-play of the first three sections of R. Kelly's 'trapped in a closet.'
I can't tell which way is up. Too many corners around his house too. An arbitary assimilation of edges.
Christ, I swear you are the high man's Dr. Seuss.
You kept showing the cop the bruises on the bottoms of your feet and claiming you were a medical mystery.
Moment of the day: as we leave the restaurant, she reaches into my pocket, pulls out her panties, and angrily marches to her car. I felt like a sketchy magician.
Doing lines of coke through pieces of licorice. Because I can
My mouth taste like pussy and my dad noticed. Hahahaha
You left a motherfucking bruise. ON MY TIT. How? How do you even. No.
Question: what's the protocol for seeing your mistress walking alongside her clueless boyfriend? If you could answer this ten minutes ago, that'd be great.
If your night didn't end with writing a witness report for the cops at a shwarma place, your night was probably less interesting than mine.
Can we smoke pot out of a menorah?
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