So this shipmate of mine somehow managed to throw up in his back pocket.
There is a guy, stoned out of his mind, only wearing slippers and a bathrobe in the library.
Yes, but if I hadn't gotten here early, I never would have seen the butch lesbian midget waddling down stairs from the bar. Worth every minute of drinking alone.
Her vagina felt like a fur coat. It was weird at first but I kinda liked it
Moment of the day: as we leave the restaurant, she reaches into my pocket, pulls out her panties, and angrily marches to her car. I felt like a sketchy magician.
i only avoided him because he looked like he was about to have a heart attack and i didnt feel like doing cpr on my day off.
what type of emt are you
gymnastic barn sex. fuck i wish i hadn't blacked out
Well he fell three stories from the balcony and still had the strength to fuck me for 2 hours.
I fell into his fridge. I want to leave.
2 reasons we need to wear those onesies to the bar more ofter 1) comfy as shit 2) we both still got laid\n\nHow can you resist that kinda night?
Maybe if he'd step up his game and get a real job instead of donating plasma and trying to grow pot then you wouldn't feel compelled to write prisoners in Oregon.
Come over. But instead of sex, will you rub anti itch cream all over my face?
woke up with 8 used magnum condoms bound together by floss around my neck, thats about all im gonna tell you.
I've been getting a lot of emails from patron lately for being a great customer. Is that awesome, or should I start thinking about seeking help?
I suppose writing him up is more professional than keying his car.
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