There is nothing romantic about fisting.
There is nothing romantic about fisting.
There is nothing romantic about fisting.
OK, time to channel my inner Kirk. I guess that means I’ll go try to blow shit up and sleep with girls.
So many angles when it comes to butt stuff.
I’m already dominating. Give me another tater tot.
I met Toto in my dream. The band or the dog? The band.
We went to all the baby classes other than baby massage. I think you need an actual baby for that.
If anyone needs any help, I’m very good at dialing 9-1-1.
Dude, “wingbanging” sounds like such an excellent procedure.
So I pooped in a Light Bright the other day…
I don’t pay for sex. I’m just charming and handsome.
If thirteen people go see Jurassic World, do you know how much each raccoon has to spend?
Sometimes I think Mom is really thirteen raccoons in a Mom suit.
Will you have sex with my body? Yes. Especially if you phrase it like that.
I’m gonna lie to you all the time now. *gasp* That was a lie.
Woof—I am a belching fool right now! My compliments to the me!
I smell skunk. That’s weed. That’s the skunkiest weed I’ve ever smelled. That’s what weed smells like now, Mom.
I didn’t force it, I just pushed it.
He must be bald on top. He has a hat on.
We need to email him some beer.