and that's why we call him explosion in my pants. no one remembers his real name.
he just referred to himself as the billy mays of his frat.. heres how to order
If it wasnt for meatballs I would have fucking killed myself already.
I woke up under a table, with a huge Mexican sombrero, a box of 120 doughnuts and a bloody nose. It all screams success.
I can see why you broke up with her now... it was like having sex with a corpse.
i'm not sure when i reached "slam my own hand in the door" status but my half attached fingernail is not grateful.
You wouldnt be able to explain the can of green beans in my mailbox, would you?
screw it, I'll just be a stripper until next August when then are looking for suitable teachers to teach the future of America. it's like a feel good movie just a little out of order and im a dude.
Look, I'm just saying... paying ur respects to the neighbors who had a death in the family with food u steal from the neighbors having the cookout may result in a negative karma situation.
Gotta get dat. Gotta get dat. Gotta get dat dat dat dat dat ~uterus contraction~
Look at the picture I MADE him take with me...like why??? He's holding my foot?
Is it weird that i want a guy to ask me to homecoming by spelling it out in meatballs?
THATS VERY WEIRD
Just went over my top ten highlight reel with that guy I'm fucking. It was like we were sports announcers. But about sex.
the only thing she has in her apt so far is toilet paper and shot glasses. you can see where the priorities lie.
It'd be good to change things up a bit, right now the only public service I'm doing from my apt is hanging out in my underwear with the lights on.
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