We are probably going to have to use your boobs as currency to get this done
maybe you should do the old hyperventilate, take a shot of vodka, sniff someone's hair trick
Rain ponchos don't count as shirts at the bar. FYI.
He doesn't belong with God. He belongs face-down in a pile of his own excrement, vomit, blood and semen. Then pissed on by Satan.
She's using our floating beer pong table as an air mattress to sleep on.
Speaking of testosterone. I saw a girl with a moustache thicker than one I can grow last night...
I'll just have to do enough fangirling for the both of us. Nipples engaged.
He is just a personification of a vodka hangover.
Yes. Sex with questionable women, and made of potatoes.
Oh fuck, I messaged a Jack Kerouac poem to a girl I'm trying to sleep with last night at 4am.
I'm trying to ve beat feiesnd sent.
I think I hit my head on every surface in that apartment last night
We're going to party like we don't have spanx on
They got mad when I cut the pizza with an x-acto knife. Oh well, more for me then.
Let's drink tonight I promise I'll make it out of the house
Good Morning! You are sterile right?
Randomize
