i have nine cents in my fucking bank account... not even a dime
I love you. And by the way. I found out a way for you to train your gag reflex. Elliot taught us in math.
Dude, we somehow need to leave discretely with the toilet brush.
There's cake. And donuts. And strippers. It's like 5 year old me and 20 year old me are throwing a party together...
you better take a shot tonight for every cat you have ever seen and wanted. this is a lot of cats.
You. Me. Frosting and a bed. Lets do this.
I sent him a bunch of texts telling him that his beard wasn't long enough yet so we couldn't fuck and to text me back in a few hours if it had.
I'm going as either a recovering alcoholic, or as a guy who came to the party straight from work. Too literal?
Well am going to a strip club before sun down, I dont think anything good can come from that.
I'm FaceTiming Pizza Hut.
But if I live with you I'll help pay rent. Only if you promise no 50 shades of what the fuck internet hookups
Maybe you should slow down tonight...
KINGS DON'T NEED ADVICE FROM LITTLE HORN-BILLS FOR A START
Emergency thong? Check! Suspension bondage is a go!
If my body were a person, it would be beating the shit out of me for what I did to it last night.
Nothing wrong with a little cat scratch fever. You have toys?
A few, plus a dildo molded from a porn star that I've always been too intimidated of to actually use, but it's the apocalypse, and momma didn't raise no quitter.
Randomize
