I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I'm trapped in whichever ring of hell is populated by inbred yokels and type 2 diabetes.
she met some random, took his vcard, peed in his bed, left, and then requested him as her boyfriend on facebook
you were making out, puked over his shoulder and insisted everything was okay
She saved the condom from the first time we did it.
I found my phone outside under the leaves by the curb. What the fuck did I do last night
Apparently I used ziplock bags to smuggle my drink out with. By pouring it in one, then cut the corner like it was an icing bag later that night. What is wrong with me?
I can't even masturbate without crying fuck this break up
Speaking of church, everyone showed up to lunch in the dining hall in their Sunday best and I walk in looking homeless bc I just got out of bed. I hate this school.
They're magnificent. It's like god made her last but hadn't fulfilled his boob quota.
She gave you a handy in the bar and you were surprised she was good with a dick?
Hahah good point
Did you know that pizza hut has a wedding proposal box? And sorry for being kinda drunk yesterday when you got here
NO I WILL NOT SET YOU UP WITH MY TWIN WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!? JUST BECAUSE I WONT BLOW YOU DOESNT MEAN YOU CAN STALK HER AS A BACKUP PLAN YOU SPANISH BASTARD
Stop letting me drink while doing my makeup. I think I used sharpie for eyeliner.
After we fucked we sat in bed and watched Charlie St. Cloud and he fed me ice cream. It was probably the most romantic thing I've ever done.
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