you announced to the whole room that instead of shaving you were planning to start straightening and then braiding your pubes. awkward silence followed by everyone leaving.
I really don't understand how I cannot figure out how to work a fucking can opener when I'm hungover. Yet I still retained the ability to take a perfectly symmetrical picture of my erect penis and send it to every person in Matt's contacts the night before.
One person in the car. Three blizzards. Alot of judging.
the point i decided it was time to leave was when i was on the floor of the bar, after taking her down with me, and a table.
he opened the microwave and beer cans poured out
with your flexibility, and the size of my penis, amazing things are possible.
I tried. Now my legs are bleeding and I cracked my head on the coffee table. Never taking your advice again.
So he might be the smartest man alive. He had the stripper pick him up taco bell on the way to the room for an extra 50 bucks.
He ate me out in the forest at that park we used to hit my bong in highschool again, somehow this isn't what I pictured being 25 would be like
You are a piece of meat with a side of awesome to me.
Let's just says his mouth writes a lot of checks that his penis just can't cash. Don't waste your time.
And in that, my finest lazy stoner moment, I used my cleavage to hold my bowl steady while I packed it laying down in bed.
I just tried to brush my hair with a can opener. Who gave you that brownie
This can only be settled by a dance off.
I told the border patrol officer she was smuggling drugs in her ass. I doubt she cheats on me again.
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