I just ordered ten of these. Who wants one? Message me with your address and I’ll hook you up. (I ordered a bunch because I know they’ll get stolen off my car)
A good friend of mine told me that she’d show me her naked vagina if I went out and bought the girliest notebook I could find, and use it throughout grad school.
Challenge accepted.
Back from my epic road trip. The route: Memphis, TN to Little Rock, AR to Dallas, TX to Abilene, TX to Lubbock, TX to Clovis, NM to Roswell, NM to Ruidoso, NM to Las Cruces, NM to Tucson, AZ to Phoenix, AZ to Wickenberg, AZ to Kingman, AZ to Las Vegas, NV back to Phoenix, AZ and the exact same route all the way to Lubbock, TX then into Ardmore, OK to Atoka, OK then back to Memphis, TN.
Way too many pictures to post. Way too many good memories to mention. So instead, here’s a picture of Doug Henning.
Achievement unlocked: Bachelor’s Degree (+10 Intelligence, +15 Charisma, +15 Random Chance of Getting Laid…+55 if the girl lives in a trailer park.)
The pic of me sweating balls at the gym has been deleted because a mean, rotten, horrid little girl said that I looked like a gay bouncer. No more pics of me shall be posted. You’re all cut off.
I was severely reprimanded by a Swedish she-wolf last night for being in love with Kelly Clarkson.
I graduate in three days.
I’m still in love with my rifle.
I’m driving to Vegas at the end of this week.
My shoulders hurt from continuously exercising with a 30-pound backpack on my back.
I’ve been angry for several days and I’m not sure why. Manstruating?
That’s all I have for now.
It's foreplay
LaQuita: I'm going to stuff your ass with frosting, make you shit it out on to a cake, and make you eat it.
Duke Jeremy: I'm going to eat your pussy, push down on your stomach so that you queef in my mouth, burp that queef into your mouth, make you burp it back into my ass, then I'm going to fart it back into your mouth.
LaQuita: Omg. Well played. You win.
I can’t stop playing with it. It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s alllll miiiiine. Let the zombie apocalypse begin.
It’s 4:30am. I’m sitting here in boxer-briefs, smoking a cigarette, eating a power bar, texting my friend George about global pandemics and assault rifles, and listening to some band on YouTube called Dragonheart. Is this what normally happens before someone officially dives into the deep end of the insanity pool?
