i'd like someone to explain to me why my clothes are all sticky. including my fanny pack. yes, this is a mass text.
we left the bar for like 10 minutes last night and moved his car so it wouldnt get towed. neither of us have a clue where it is right now.
for a minute I thought I needed to put on pants to go get a burrito, but then I remembered I'm in college
4 maple syrup blunts. Decided to sit on my roof and count the snowflakes that landed on my tongue. 84.
I've spent the last ten minutes rubbing glue sticks on the wall
I feel like college is just an experience in what names I can't name my future son.
during a bj, his alarm went off and he said "At the buzzer"
I just saw a douchebag with frosted tips & a LaCoste polo with popped collar driving a Call of Duty edition Jeep. It was a cavalcade of stereotypes.
When the sex is so good, you need three fans and have to chug a gallon of water after
I woke up with jello shots in pant pockets so I must've had fun
My frontal lobe is being piloted by Jack Daniels right now.
And I got shut down by a ginger. It was a weird night
All I'm saying is this is the exact reason I should not be left unsupervised.
Okay so I've been talking to the mice again and they agree with me that you're a piece of shit.
I just want a guy who makes lots of money, has a skilled penis and the sex drive of a 22 year on Viagra. Is that too much to ask?
Randomize
