You better not fucking die before we have sex while you blow fire. I'm serious. Don't mess up my sexual bucket list.
Your last day of twenties? OK. Then I'll give you til midnight. Then you turn into a pumpkin. A big, 30 year old pumpkin.
Cops came. Forced us to take the "Honk and We'll Drink" and the "Free Shots to Father's of Freshman Daughters" signs down. Before we did, someone honked and the cop said, "Aren't you gonna drink?" They then told us to move the party inside by ten.
I don't think my body can handle the alcohol I want to put in it anymore.
On the oral sex Super Bowl board I drew 7 and 1. If I get lucky, someone will be swallowing during Madonna's half time. I'm sure she'd approve.
What goes on in that head of yours?
Gay sex, for the most part. Why?
Every single item that was in my fridge is now in my hot tub. Please help
I've blown him while he hit my bong, I've blown him while he played video games and now I'm looking for a new challenge. Don't even try suggesting a blumpkin.
An image of us stuck like that like Pompeii comes to mind. A wonder for future anthropologists
I am drinking fireball and apple juice out of a sippy cup like a fucking toddler.
I'm sorry I called your mother a reasonably-priced receptacle.
Self care is breaking into nasa and launching yourself directly into the fucking void
so at target i bought condoms, on sale undies, pasta roni, and martini mix. the old lady who rang me up asked "honey are you a freshman?" yea lady i am, thanks.
She grinded so hard on my face that I've got rugburn on both eyelids
i passed out in front of ihop...for the second night in a row. i think i need to reevaluate my life choices
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