I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
how lazy do you have to be to be a fat vegetarian?
Well, what part of "I've heard she has crabs" didn't you take into consideration?
I bruised his dick. I bruised his dick WITH MY MOUTH!! I've never felt more accomplished.
My favorite part was walking in the bathroom, you fixing yourself in the mirror, calling your reflection a fag, then throwing a haymaker into the paper towel dispenser before going back out to the bar.
He literally is quoting that 21 questions song, the 50 cent one. oh my god.
Its your turn to fuck our RA next time she threatens us with an underage.
Chinatown. Her fortune cookie said "accept the next proposition you receive." TELL ME NO NOW.
I would literally rather jam a rusty rail road spike into my cock than be here right now. The whore showed up and now I might smash my iPhone into my face repeatedly until I'm no longer consisting of any sort of life.
Hangover or death. Death. I'll have a slice of death please.
In my dream I had to eat so many peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches
He can't say no, it's my spiritual goddamn quest.
I accepted my type is not "conventionally attractive" when she asked me "Him? Are you sure?" 5 times in front of him last night
You better not fucking die before we have sex while you blow fire. I'm serious. Don't mess up my sexual bucket list.
I really hope this is just a phase, because I am not capable of carrying both of our drunken whore asses through life. Too much dead weight....
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