I'm so fucking pissed that I wasted my shooting star wish on him and his little penis.
You know how I know it's Spring Break? I just passed a car with "South Padre bound" shoe polished on the back. The driver was blatantly drinking a roadie and getting road head.
If I die on my trip, you're my chosen person. Nightstand-vibrators. Computer-iphoto naked pictures. I hope you feel honored.
I can't. I can't get out. He cooked me food. And made me jager bombs. And painted a glow in the dark smilie face on my boobs
Come on. I'll make you hot pockets. Literally and sexually.
It's only Tuesday and I just measured and checked to see if my 6'5 Friday booty call will fit in the back of my jeep comfortably.
It's hard being an adult. And by that I mean it's hard to tell the boy you like who rejected you that you can't share a room with him at white party because you don't want to see him bang other boys.
I mean, I love her. But not "I'll have a threesome with her." Type of love.
you puked in the bathtub and said "let them pee"
I just ate 6 cheeseburgers with some homeless guy. Pretty epic.
Out of curiosity, do you feel happiness for you, or sadness for ME, that you are the only one I drunk text?
Also there's a home game tomorrow and I thought about holding up a sign that says, "I madeout with #64 during orientation week" would that be inappropriate??
I want to die, ON THAT, with that INSIDE ME. ironically, I sense that would be the only time I'd feel alive.
I must stop trying to make out with my friends when I'm hammered.
He also sent me nipple clamps because romance is NOT dead
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