dude, I'm watching paul blart mall cop. I have better things to do than listen to you whine about your recent divorce.
Let's start a violent farting gang. We can do walkbys.
i'm pretty sure you said "blowjob marathon" lastnight
i totally said that
I'm drinking rum and coke straight from the 2 liter bottle.
It's like playing clue with my own life. I have to piece together what I did, where I was, how I did it, and who I did it to
they call him the transporter because he'll be your designated driver in exchange for sufficient weed or sex.\n
what about money
no - he has a code he lives by
nothing like a call from your drunk grandpa at midnight on a wednesday to ask your parents if you're registered to vote...
You know you come from good stock when you can have a family discussion about excuses to scam pain pills from the doctors
I found them. Thank God. Now I'm gonna have to take a Xanax for the panic attack I almost had trying to find my Xanax.
Shaving your balls drunk sounds like a good idea untill you do it
Your normalization of crazy is frightening.
Once he bit me I drew the fucking line.
It wasn't until after we began having sex again the next morning I realized I didn't know his name.
I wouldn't have found her if it wasn't for the vomit trail leading into my brother's room.
Yes. I had to slow down my handjob so he would last...-and I give shitty handjobs to begin with
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