my brain is sober enough to have a conversation.. but my arms feel nice
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Let's just be mature adults about last night and never speak of it again.
just bought a 30 and sold it for $2 a can to some dumb ass high school kids. now lets buy two and get really drunk
I was cleaning up my drunken mess and I found my ID in a cereal box
I just sneezed alcohol in a candle and started a fire.
He asked me to grab his balls and yell "thats a spicy meat-a-ball" Last time I do requests.
I mean if she was naked in my room I would talk to her
I'm puking to John Mayor, save me. Or at least change it to somethong beyyt
im really going to miss that car, so many blow jobs...
only clue right now is the orange grease all on my clothes. debit card denied so I know something weird went down..
I just met his other fuck buddy...I am thinking of befriending her just to fuck with him...manuplating my roommates into hating each other is boring me i need something else to do
Wtf man. I knew she was bad news. No sane person cares if you eat their raviolli.
The morning after your company Xmas party and that moment you're eating a block of cheese in bed wearing a sequin blazer and recalling all the details of your one night stand with a coworker who happened to start that day...fuck.
I would go disguised as someone he didn't have premature ejaculative sex with but I don't know if I could stay in character.
Randomize
