You surviving the open bar?
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He's telling me stories about how he made out with a 14 yr old when he was 22. I'm going home.
BEES IN MY FUCKING PANTS. HELP.
No, I'm only going to drink half my paycheck. That's the responsible thing to do.
He just seriously used the word "skeet." Can we please find another way to get weed?
No. Take one for the team.
Plotting your own moral demise should not be this fun
I puked in the revolving door and had to sit down on the escalator. That hungover. It's safe to say people are judging me.
My little brother just suggested we drink the rest of the vodka because it's raining. My job is complete.
Me. You. Shitty green clothes from Savers that we will dub alligator costumes. Middle of the quad tomorrow at noon. Bring your alligator voice and the pearls before swine comic.
He refused to pierce my nipples, saying they are the best he's ever seen and that blemishing them would be a crime
I need to find out this kids work schedule. I need mustache rides on my lunchbreaks.
There's some band that practices next door to my apartment. I'm thinking we may need to check that out. I could be like, "Hey boys, thought you might like some lemonade and vagina."
You merely adopted the alcohol. I was born into it. Molded by it. I didn't see the hang over until I was a man and by then it was only blinding.
Go to the bar. Find a girl. Ask if she can cook. Tell her you have a guitar at home. Ask her if she wants to see it. Bring her home. Sleep with her. Tell her it's your birthday in the morning. Enjoy your made with lust breakfast.
You start to question your morals when you wake up at 430 and there's three people naked...that you don't no
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