I texted him about a book we both like. I was expecting a "ya great book... let's bone" response. It didn't work
he was so high that he wouldn't speak to anybody for like 30 minutes, he'd only gobble, like a turkey.
He's only a little bit crosseyed.
I think this is one situation where "a little bit" doesn't mean much.
I would say I am sorry for punching you last night, but I found the pictures you took on my camera and it all came rushing back.
I didn't hate myself when I woke up today, that's improvement right?
You. Me. A bottle of Vodka. The wilderness.
Oh and I ate all of your Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Consider it part of your reparation payment for accidental anal insertion. I may continue to collect payments until I am no longer sore.
Why we can't turn this into a healthy friendship where I cheat on my boyfriend with you and you feel better knowing everything wrong with my life is beyond me.
I just got a huge discount at GameStop for having tits. I win.
From now on when a guy sends me a dick picture I'm going to send them a picture of some other dudes dick.
You're an asshole. I don't want your dick as my background. I'll look like I have a thumb fetish.
What!? It's 7:30am on gameday. This keg is not going to drink itself.
I swear every time I see him he's either dancing or trying to touch people
you don't understand it took me an hour and a half to escape that bed, I had to memorize his sleeping patterns.
His 89 y/o father walked in on us. Judging by the gasp/moan, I don't think the 1920s prepared him to see another dude inside his son.
Randomize
