I'm wearing a childsize birthday hat and a bib. I am the def of sex appeal rite now
I really like you and I'm tired of just hooking up. I want you be my boyfriend.
Uhh, I'm not breaking up with my girlfriend to be with you.
a strip club that doesn't allow touching or asking for sex... whats the point?
unless her vagina can tell me my horoscope in sign language, I'm not going.
apparently the secret to your success is patron
I love your family. Oh. And on a completely unrelated note, I know where we can steal a dog.
You hopped on the counter after puking, and told us you were wearing bare feet and didn't want to be alone.
Well, he's moving. Now my only options are to accept it or fake a pregnancy; and since you are my only pregnant friend I'm going to need you to pee on this stick for me.
After 3 dates I think I'm failing at painting the "sweet guy with a future" picture and more painting the "this is the guy to call when you've run out of options and want to get fucked in half drunk to forget about it" picture.
If you're not peeing in public bi-monthly, you're not really living.
I feel like he better crank it up to level RG IV tomorrow. It's the fucking playoffs.
So note to self oboe reeds soaked in Apple Rubinoff sound GREAT.
He's like a computer from 2001 in a 2014 world. It just doesn't work. Lots of glitches.
I mean. I just want to sit in my bed and eat bagels. What's wrong with that?
Ben Franklin would totally be a furry.
You're smoking weed and checking Tumblr I take it?
I think I'm more excited for Santa to come now that I made a drinking game out of it
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