I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I'm blazed at jack in the box and my order number is 420. I wish everything in the world made this much sense.
the taste of these tagalongs is totally worth boning that creepy troop leader chick...
we banged on the home plate. i wasnt even aware of the significance of where we were until afterwards hahaha
woke up on my stairs with half a hot dog beside me and the last text I sent was "i make hot dog in toasTer" .
you almost dropped the shot glass then you thought you were such a hard ass for catching it that you slammed it on the table and broke it
#1- I went to button my shirt only to find they were all mising. #2- I'm so fu@king sore I feel like I was sweating to the oldies all night. #3- this pounding headache I have, I blame solely on Jennifer. Everyone sounds like Billy Mays when they talk. I remember nothing from last night, I'm concerned.
He spent $1100 at a strip club. If I had that kind of disposable income, I'd make a cocaine sandcastle.
There's a drag queen here that reminds me strongly of you. You should try crossdressing.
Dude did I even see you at the bar. Cause I was for sure there then the next second apparently I was crying next to my Christmas tree because nobody believed in me.
It's whatever. Titanic is about to be on and we have wine, which is basically crying juice. Leo, Kate, and I will be having a lovely, pants free evening.
Well statistically J has a 1 in 3 chance of hospitalization when downtown
And a 3 for 3 for disapeearing
The night they met I slept with both of them. Of course I'm best man.
He made her leave because she liked Top-Ramen better than Maruchaun. He's my hero.
Your shit was massive.
I'm not 100% sure how to respond to that.
If you were in a "who has the massivest shit contest", you'd win by a landslide.
Randomize
