So I just passed a billboard for "Risque Cafe: Good food and topless women". Fuck. I love SC.
Let's play a little game called "Chill the Fuck Out" - you're our first contestant
They call it the Collection Couch because all 4 room mates have slept with at least 3 different girls on it. He tried to seal the deal with "would you like to be number 14?"
And sadly I did.
it was like brushing your tongue but with a fucking long toothbrush.
I couldn't accept the bj. My penis has done nothing wrong and didn't deserve the punishment of her face.
Three guys came up to me at the bar and started dancing on me, while screaming "Johnson's girl." That's the last time I sleep with a freshmen.
I'm drinking wine alone, eating leftovers, and cleaning my sex toys. For the love of god, do not graduate.
A blow job from a tiger shark would still entail less risk to your genitals than having sex with her.
Because you stood over the Ice luge screaming STONE COLD and poured beer on everyone
She's a freaking stalker dude, it's like having some kind of cartoon animal just following around everywhere
you were so blacked last night that you jumped in the lake fully clothed, then just went back to the bar and walked around like you weren't soaking wet.
He's going to find out eventually, but really what's he going to do? Cry about it and buy another fucking kitten??
That awkward moment when you are on your way to ICU and the only sympathy gift you can think of is beer and whiskey
is it fucked up if I wear crotchless panties to thanksgiving to make it easier for me to fuck my cousins friend.
God I love you.
Of course his biggest mistake was assuming that I ever gave a fuck to begin with.
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