Text messages I have sent lately…

Graeter’s Ice Cream is marketing their product directly to my butt.


I am horny. This is problematic.

He wants to reproduce with you. And not like ameba.

Bar smell makes me horny. Sh!t, everything makes me horny. I hate ovaries.

I am like Switzerland, only more neutral.

AC/DC are my cultural heroes.

Who’s gonna zoomzoom with your boomboom?

Not it!

I asked if Axl Rose was a girl. I really thought he was.

You can not call “shot” in a text message, doofus.

He’s hornier than I am.


Writing The Great Gatsby with text messages blows.

Yeah, I’m strange. So what?

The cat farted. Icky peewww smelly.


PS I am still horny.


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