I've decided through careful research we can out drink any country folk.
I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
It's not true, it's not true! She's too full of cheese to have sexy time!
I had to move some guys boxers out of the dryer. This is the closest I'll be getting to dick this month.
His internet history had "Disney Porn" on it.
I just got an email from a bridal website with the subject "Countdown to your Wedding Day"... is 11AM too early to drink the rest of the wine we have?
I've decided, even as much fun as it sounds, I don't care for his sodomy box.
You picked up her frozen vom puddle and threw it like a frisbee.
You're the third person who's asked me for an afternoon blow connection in one day. Unreal.
That's more of a you-issue than a me-issue
On my way, five mins. Is the line long? Do you think they will they hold a pumpkin at coat check?
You don't care if I shave my legs, but you insist I be conscious for sex. Whatever. I really think your priorities are out of whack.
YOU DON'T JUST GET TO CALL AND SAY YOU MIGHT BE DEAD, THEN NOT ANSWER!
At the funeral we'll say nice things, like "She was delightfully extreme, psychotically wonderful, and could probably drink all you fuckers under the table."
That's literally the perfect eulogy
Drunk within and hour of coming home from work, merry christmas bitch
He let me share his family pack of hot pockets with him. Chivalry isn't dead after all.
Randomize
