I just saw the Donald Trump of homeless quys walking down the street. He had three shopping carts and a bike.
i guess i called my mom last night. she wasnt nearly as impressed with what we did in the bathroom as i was
Then I received a text in French, that roughly translated to "all you'll ever be good for is sex on the Internet"
The drunk teletubby stumbling out of the place tipped me off..
I feel more comfortable going down on her then actually kissing her.
the potatoes in the margarita machine wasn't the breaking point. its when he turned on the stove and put a bunch of bottle rockets on it that i knew the night had prematurely failed
Shit stained towel. The very symbol of how much closer we are as friends. Fall 011... beautiful disaster
My lower body still feels like its been through a garbage disposal and a trash compactor. In that order.
I just remember going to take a piss and looking down on the floor and thinking "that looks comfortable" and then I was out.
Currently cooking 3lbs of bacon in case the power goes out bc if even one slice of bacon goes to waste then sandy wins
I'm hoping that by this time next year we will be smoking some weed at a gay wedding, asking "Mitt who?"
Gay bathhouses. They're actually a thing. So god does exist. And he doesn't hate me as much as you think he does
I was intimate with him for twenty minutes and will be intimate with shame for twenty years.
Congrats on dating a convict, there's no fitbit badge for that one.
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