I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I puked off the balcony.
Not horrible
Into the hottub. There were six people in it. I had eaten all their pizza.
I crashed her parents' car cause she was giving me road head. Its probably best to just let them think I'm a bad driver.
apparently he couldn't remember my name so he refereed to me as whats-her-boobs and everyone knew that it was me he was talking about
she was passed out on the moving sidewalks in the airport, we NEED to travel more often
Well I squeegeed the puke off your arm at the gas station
It's my coworker's last day party and I'm the one who ended up shitfaced on the train with half a bottle of belvedere in my bag.
I clipped one of my extensions in his hair to give him a rat tail. What is my life?
And then I cried about the Cubs for a half hour. If my dignity hadn't already been lost by that point in the night, it sure as hell was then.
So again no comment on the cleavage. I'm a bit disappointed. If those girls come together to make cleavage AND I send you a pic of it, you have to comment on it. That's like relationship 101.
Sorry brah. Drastic times called for drastic measures and I had to go home and bang a cougar.
I met her daughter,who I went to high school with on my way out this morning. She didn't seem to surprised. I love older women.
Fast is cars. Home is I now. Drunk yoda me is.
My professor just told my lab he could drive us around town in his 1991 Lincoln towncar limo for our bar crawl. This just keeps getting better!
All I can taste is Pickle Juice and Cocaine.
Randomize
