we were both hunting dick last night. it ended terribly for both of us.
i actually just woke up with a lampshade on my head. god damn cliches.
i walked in on him listening to enya, jacking off, and vomiting into a cup on his desk. are you serious.
Does the phrase 'traumatizing near-threesome' mean anything to you.
guess who's bored in chemistry researching how to sneak weed through airport security in her vagina?
the boys love us. they call us "the stoner girl suite down the hall". not very inspired, but flattering nonetheless
I feel a bullet train of disappointment headed in your direction.
You threw an open can of pop at me while I was lying on the floor babbling and drooling about how I need to be alone forever, me and my leaking face.
Let me put it this way - if I had a list of things I would like between my legs, she would rank below the cello I turned into firewood sophomore year.
What about.....a game of twister and....wait..nevermind. I've hit my cap for sexualizing things today.
My going away gift was all of them dancing around with solo cups on their dick and balls...these are my friends
I think my Halloween costume this year will be made entirely of pillows and I'll be Marshmellow girl or Kirby. That way I'm comfortable, warm, and if I fall over drunk I'm safe.
Operation: pick up a lawyer was a resounding success. Commence operation: football mugshot weekend
I am the Angelina Jolie to his Billy Bob Thorton. We just don't work.
You kept yelling stranger danger at Nick because he was talking to that girl you didn't like. Your not invited ever again.
Randomize
