I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
It wasn't random sex though, it was almost a relationship, built on lies and sex
I'd rate him "doable" on a scale from "ew, run" to "you should've already fucked him".
That's about an "8" on normal scales.
Apparently I told his new girlfriend to stop swallowing because she's getting fat. Oh, and I yelled this across a large room
History professor is at the bar. Hurry! There's only so many A's he could give before it starts to look bad.
We stared down the barrel of pure insanity, took more and the electric elephant god rewarded our fearlessness by giving me golden skulls and naked women crawling out of the walls. I love acid
This is the Santa Claus of hangovers. It just keeps giving.
At this point, if I'm not getting fucked by a man in ONLY cowboy boots, it's not worth it.
When my beach tent arrives , I strongly suggest quitting our jobs and becoming homeless beach drunks
Uhm I have a bottle of tequila, a gallon of orange juice, and leggings. Now ask me again how hard im going? And that doesn't cover tomorrow.
Dude she passed out on the floor so you covered her with a blanket to make sure "no one would notice her"
And when she started moving around and making noises you told everyone, "it's okay, it's just my roomba under there".......
I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with myself when this is all over. I'll probably just go back to smoking pot and trying to learn italian.
I realized my soar muscles form the shape of me leaning over a toilet
im having flashbacks to my time in a waffle cult composed of 9 to 14 year olds
why the hell are you crying over taco bell?
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