just found a shoebox labled "emergency smoking box"... it has a lightbulb, 2 potatoes, a dried up flower, and a button that says "stop drop and roll". what did we do last night?!
I literally need to be slapped with another cock just to notice it.
Great. I get laid, Leslie Nielsen dies. I can't have have sex anymore, the film community can't take another loss like this.
Please tell me how you drunkenly remembered your social security number when we were checking you into the ER.
My mom just set up beer pong in the dining room for family game night. and you ask why I'm still living at home.
My leg won't stop wagging. It's like it's congratulating my vagina.
Also, fighting a very strong urge to nickname your dick Whitey Bulger, at least for today.
They're pole dancing on a handicap sign post.
We fucked through the entire Destiny's Child album, it was a beautiful thing.
Well, after emptying the contents of my stomach into a fucking rose bush, the only things moving through my digestive system are pills, coffee, and my own lip gloss. If that gives you any idea what kind of a day I'm having.
My wife managed to convince me to not drink everclear by threatening to ban me from her vagina
Nothing like a little " am I gonna shit myself " to spice up the work day
I was walking back to the dorm and was made fun of for wearing a coat. I'M SORRY I CARE ABOUT MY WELL BEING.
Every time our eyes meet, I silently summon him to my vagina.
She's kind of holyer-than-thou, like god himself came down and said "please cock block your roommate at every opportunity, and if you think she's thinking of sex, tell her she's a whore"
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