So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
another moral hangover. fuck.
My favorite part of our friendship is your tits.
jersey shore has given me a vivid depiction of what things will be like for me once i get to hell
In a cab. Towels everywhere. Confused.
I'm in a pile of cheezits at an unfamiliar location watching dateline on tlc. Stage an intervention.
And I just found out I called my debit card a fast food passport so I dont deserve to live
you should probably know that there's a naked dude in your window
i wouldn't normally say anything but you seem to not be there
It was kicking off big time until you crawled out the bar on your hands and knees. Nobody wanted to mess with that.
Only you could successfully troll for dick at a Hillel bake sale.
You should just skip the small talk from now on and instead say something like "You need to come slay the dragon, be here in 15?"
Last night I made him sit on my bed and finish my burrito bowl as I chanted "brucey" over and over until he was done like they did in Matilda with the chocolate cake
When God made him he put all his talent in his dick. What he lacks in brain, he makes up for in loin.
how do you know everyone's mad at you?
I just woke up feeling shameful
Why is there a condom in my ukulele?
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