I mean, it really isn't YOUR car until you have sex in it.
Nope, just sitting on the couch, eating an advent calendar, being depressed about the herps.
I slept in bed with them the night they met. I once peed on the bride. And now I get to give a speech at their wedding. Piece of cake.
Trying to low-key throw up in the ocean is harder than it seems.
We should invent fake asshair for you to wear so you can experience my pain for a day.
He kept dropping hints about giving me crabs. Like he called my pubes a nest and said he "hoped there weren't any eggs in there."
We're going to shave my junk and take pictures of it wearing fake mustaches we found at the dollar store. They're uncannily realistic; much better than the cockstaches of my youth.
If you invite me to a bar tonight my liver will kick you in the testicles
Considering showing up at your house with coronas. I'll be wearing a sombrero and that's it.
Party city is having a sale on maracas
I just stole a conducting baton from the chicago symphony orchestra... i have to stop drinking on weeknights
I can feel my pain tolerance has shot up right along with my libido
do you ever feel so high you're swimming backstroke and then you realize you're still laying in bed on tumblr
I miss you, too. It's hard to sleep without anything licking my head.
i just hope we're both dead or in prison at the same time
He referred to our sex as "an Olympic event." My tits are bruised.
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