I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
i could't wear that belt anymore, it was gonna make me keep shitting for the rest of the night
i'm sorry for cheering you on when you were making out with him. i was just celebrating the fact he was decent looking for once
my host sister just stared at me as i knocked over the lamp, then took out all my chocolate, walked into the bathroom, and locked the door. i'm officially the worst exchange student ever.
Come, dress lightly, bring tequila...
The only explanation I can think of is that he still likes me. Which gives me an enormous amount of power over him and makes me laugh with malicious intent.
Imagine cans of beer raining. Like not hitting you and hurting you. Just gently falling into your hand whenever you're sad
It's meant to be, Cynthia. You, him, and your developed breasts are meant for each other.
I may have just poured a honey apple beer onto a dried apple slice to rehydrate it. This is my day.
Someone put pennies in the toilet. This isn't a fucking wishing well
I've officially dedicated my newly single life to making myself squirt.
you found yr lighter in yr cleavage and said so that's where you've been all my life
Why did u text me "I want to get drunk and go to pizza hut tomorrow. don't let me forget." at 3am??
That text was pretty fucking self-explanatory, man.
Am I the only one who finds it completely appropriate to pre-game our Brazilians?
I'm not big on drama but you need to put your pants on and leave.
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