I had a long pep-talk with my penis that ended in "I love you, I'll try harder and I'm sorry."
I was wasted and lost so I called the cops and asked for directions. It seemed logical at the time
This just in: I met a girl who does the phone sex phone lines, and shes' 5'4" 320. I'll never get a hardon again through a phone.
We need a plan...
Find random men. Use them as sexual objects. There's our plan.
There are paw prints all over my ceiling.
I'm dressed like a deranged cupcake. Let's get fucked up.
I found your knife. It was stuck in my bedroom ceiling.
Totally clawed myself in the face during sex. I can die happy?
If you really loved me, you'd support my weed habit.
As the person who squeezed you out of my vagina, the answer is no.
just in the smoking shack with my sister cheering on a caterpillar make its cocoon
it wasn't a total waste of time; I mean how often do you get to play scotch pong?
.....fair enough
At the funeral we'll say nice things, like "She was delightfully extreme, psychotically wonderful, and could probably drink all you fuckers under the table."
That's literally the perfect eulogy
She's passed out with a slice of pizza between her boobs should I just eat it and leave
Is it sad that my idea of a quality foursome would involve one person eating me out while the other two rub my feet?
Listen, all I’m saying is, if you’re lying naked next to a hot chick, you don’t start discussing dental hygiene.
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