So at this point...I'm sure you heard the story about Saturday night
You were so trashed that when you dropped your fruit rollup on the floor, you just sat next to it and cried.
Harry Potter. Singing. Sobering up. In that order.
critical mistake not lubing the nipples
Oh we're fine. I made her a "sorry I peed on you" omelet.
This is breast cancer awareness month... The least we can do is give a stripper some singles.
So was I the only one that was competing in the whale hunt?
I don't know. Something about answering "what did you do on Sunday?" Seems odd when the reply is, painted, went to the grocery store, put a restraint device on my bed.
I'm running on two hours of sleep, a shot of vodka, and half of a granola bar. I can't be held responsible for what I do.
I'm not the one who gave a guy that lives next door to my grandmother a blowjob in a pub bathroom in Ireland, you have no room to judge.
Bro i pulled the fucking willy wonkas gold ticket of ratchets the other night this chick was a real treat god bless her
I literally can not watch Thor without thinking of your dick
I got a charlie horse in my ass while masturbating. We are never been going to that boot camp again.
Election Day 2016 shall forever live in infamy as the day when I hobbled through my neighborhood, mascara melting down my face, wearing one slipper and a cast, blood and cum all over my skirt, carrying a box of wine, and no one even noticed.
I am just High Enough to train A-Team of bodybuilding squirrels MMA techniques to tear you asunder. And it's not that I want to is just don't you make me do it!
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