I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
Apparently I ran up to the group of cookie-cutter blonde chicks and screamed "Delta Gamma Nuuuuuuu!" really excitedly and tried to hug them and share fake sorority stories with them.
All four of us managed to throw up in the same bathroom at different times during the night. I think we'll get along great living together.
That's ok. Our relationship has a solid foundation of booze and questionable behavior.
two gay guys came in and bought just a kite and a box of wine. Why cant I have saturday nights that awesome
Drunk in my research methods class at 9:30 in the morning. We should do a quantitative analysis of my mimosa consumption.
I am both scared and jealous.
The best thing about my promotion is that I now have an office with a door. I can take my naps in peace instead of leaning my head against the stall in the bathroom.
I can't believe they pay you six figures. I hate you.
He asked for a foot job. Whatever. I guess I'm swimming in new slut waters tonight.
Almost just bought a peacock. I need to get off Craigslist
we need to find a way to be drinking champagne 24/7
You thought there were zombies attacking us so you tried to tuck and roll out of a moving vehicle. Also you should consider wearing underwear
I pour the whiskey from now on
I'm high. I apologize for that last sentence
well it was naive of you to actually think you're the only bday sex he had lined up for him today. I'm just suprised he actually had a line forming outside of his room
He pulled out a Plan B pill and handed it to me as I left like it was a party favor. God Bless America.
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