As a matter of fact my bong is named Hulkamania brother
she sang that "this little piggy song" to my balls. and somehow made it work, with me only having two balls instead of five.
Apparently I was playing rock paper scissors against myself for 2 hours in the bathroom mirror.
He wrote my name on his dick, took a picture and then said "this has your name written all over it!"
Couldn't see or hear that well because she hit me on the back of the head with a bat. That is my excuse. Also the gin.
Do you know how hard it is to write about pediatric crohn's when we're trying to figure out the keg situation for graduation?
I also have a full keg. I'm thinking about crashing a party, they can't get mad if I bring a keg of beer.
Did my good deed for the day.. Helped an old guy hide his beer on the NJ transit while the ticket lady came by
I was talking to a guy at my work, and mid-sentence he started vomiting violently for about five minutes, then he said, " great dope" and carried on like nothing had happened.
Somehow me not being able to breathe due to cocaine doesn't seem very domesticated.
If it carries over into the weekend I would be glad to nurse your vagina back to health.
Like not in a "I wanna have sex with you way" more like a "I wanna cuddle your mustache way"
"Douchebag of the Year" award goes to the guy who didn't reply to the picture of my tits.
I just plagiarized Dr. Curtis Connor's ideology from Spider-man in an essay on genetically engineered embryos. College: academic integrity at its finest.
My mom said she saw you at the grocery store. Said you looked like you were "headed for a Lindsay Lohan quarter life crisis of sorts"
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