I jacked off with the cucumber and then made that fatass a salad.
I don't hate you. My dick is upset with you, but I don't hate you.
I'm legit concerned I might pass out this weekend from having too much sex.
You were pretty dunk by the time you introduced the vase as your best friend.
It's still to early in our relationship to tell her I was sleeping in my car
sweating bourbon at client mtg -- you?
He sends me pictures of his dogs and I send him my tits, it's a win win situation
you asked the cab driver if he wanted to meet your parents, last night.
The time stamp on this text message is reason enough alone to not leave me unsupervised
My hangover didn't kick in until like 4pm so I found myself puking in the middle of Times Square. During rush hour. In a three piece suit. A spongebob came by and patted me on the back.
Fantasizing about the apocalypse is fun and shit until the conditions that could lead to one suddenly seem feasible
Your vagina is not a steamboat from the 1800's
Its safe now. But... Nobody should sleep on my bed tonight.
I admit I fucked your best friend, but to be fair, you fucked the tristate area. So there's a good chance about 40% of those people are MY friends.
Woke up at 5am in an elevator... Pretty much tells you how my weekend went.
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