My corndog is like a popsicle of bread. A WHOLE. POPSICLE. OF BREAD.
Any night you end up on the couch next to the trash can with a bag of white wine on your head is a rough night.
I maybe late, he's in a peeing contest with the neighbor's dog. Currently he's in the lead.
and PS, please don't fuck in the corn maze, k?
I may have just serenaded the sadface couple sitting on a bench outside the dorm by singing Bye Bye Bye.
Taking shots of gin by myself out of TMNT glasses and chasing with bites of chocolate cake. AMERICA.
That number that I thought was that dude's number...was actually my district manager's number. Fuckkkk.
It's called the dick transitive property. It states if you touch a person whilst they touch a dick, you are also touching said dick.
I'm hungover during 4th grade graduation practice. I AM THEIR FUTURE.
You've been dating this guy for a month now and as your best friend I have to complain that I still don't how big his dick is.
Then he kissed my hand sensually and said "you're a Black Queen. Don't let anyone tell you different."
The clothing optional portion of the night began around midnight. Then we did disgusting things to each other. It was beautiful.
So help me God.... if he sends me a dick pic.... I will make it so he has to eat food through a tube in his nose and poop into a bag by his belly button
We were driving past a farm when he screamed at me to stop the car, then he jumped out and tried to ride a cow.
I hate when pretentious people talk bad ab corn dogs
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