Or I die of a heart attack, which is the more likely/less fun scenario.
I legitimately sent him a storybook of naked pictures.
Dude, you face planted, there was no "bar fight".
ttyl tear gas
I would be the drunk girl eating cake on the front steps alone.
You were outside the bathroom the gay guy was puking in, screaming "IT GETS BETTER!" over and over again. Good message, poor execution.
Instead of sending me a picture of his dick, he sent me a drawing of it on drawsomething. This game is getting out of control.
I woke up surrounded by goldfish. Thank God my laptop was here too. Now I don't have to leave my bed all day.
If I get to the point of singing Man of Constant Sorrow then please god let me do it, record it, then cut me off.
I am coping with the snow storm with beer and shots of jack. If I were outside in shorts I might be able to pass as a Canadian.
No but I was fuckin done when I realized my acrylic nail caught fire when I was hitting the bong.
The guy I screamed at across the bar for booing the Bruins ended up buying me shots I had to explain to him there's not a chance in hell I would ever fuck a Canadian! #Bostonstrong
She left you responsible for her guinea pig for what, 3 hours? And it somehow died under your care? I will no longer trust you with so much as a beer.
Also, if you don't fuck me soon, I will die. I don't want to die like that.
So his dick was definitely bigger than it looked in all the pictures he sent my daughter.
Randomize
