Stop projecting, thumb-dick.
“Dear diary. JACKPOT!” – Quagmire
I don’t understand the first one. Locksmith??
You read my mind. Damn you.
They are locked outside of their place.
And he has the master key to their liquid velvet.
carlos is amazing
I’m looking at my crotch and smiling now…
Are we not all tired of the crotch smiling joke yet? Just me?
Has no one noticed the ill placement of the jack?
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