I just tried to put my feet in my slippers and found cans of beer in them. Christmas in fucking july.
And then I have a slight inkling that I went up to the bar and tried to order the bartender.
He wanted a handjob during a John Wayne movie. I just couldn't find it in my heart to disrespect that man. John Wayne that is.
You know me. Don't need roses, just dick and food.
He stopped in the middle of us having sex and asked "is today Monday?" then went even faster
COME GET ME FR THE HOSPIGAL'!!!!!
The only way I can describe the noise he makes when he has an orgasm: dying walrus.
Why are there chunks of your hair in everyones pocket?
I decided to mark my territory.
It would just be icing on the fucked up cake we're baking, if he got me pregnant.
I'm having a really difficult time dealing with the fact that my dog now shares a name with Snooki's crotch-spawn.
It was like something out of a fucked up fairy tale. He just crowdsurfed over to her while riding a keg, said "come sail with me", and then the crowd carried them off into the night. What.
its like my brain is a tree and you are those little cookie elves
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE A DRUNK WHEN ALL MY ENABLERS ARE BUSY?!
We are horrible
Yeah but we're also awesome
So adding to the list of things my boobs can do, sweeping with a broom is apparently a thing.
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