So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
Farted during a conference call.SBD. permeated the room people were gonna puke.noone could say anything or leave cus we were on the phone with clients. coworkers were outraged.how I still have a job is beyond me.
so... thinking about masturbating finally
taking the losers way out I see
I'm seriously gonna die surrounded by a million cats and an unbroken hymen
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we literally hit three floors of our apartment building searching for condoms. also got macaroni.
I found him in the livingroom trying to soak up broken glass with the clock from the kitchen.
And apparently i asked another younger guy at the bar if he wanted his bud light pumped straight into his vag. As i put back an irish car bomb...
I hate being near you and not being able to do what I want. It's like a recovering alcoholic tending bar. I feel like Sam Malone. Except I can't bang the cute chick I work with.
At first I was horrified but then he explained that he shave a "soul patch" on his balls... And I was still horrified, but I went with it.
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I've noticed we have slowly begun to phase the "B" out of our Bromance.
do you ever wish you could like, jerk your heart off and be, like, emotionally satisfied? it'd feel like cuddling.
Nothing warms my heart more than the sight of a naked hockey player in my bed.
His dick has the same name as my pipe. I'm keeping him forever.
Last night I actually told him I came with a washer and dryer
I called him my big strong man today. It's all downhill from here. Matching Christmas sweaters, here we come
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