So the last day on the vacation I woke up in the bath tub. My mom said she asked me during the night what I was doing and I said, "swimming."
I think the sex offender registry is kind of a VIP list. You get to not live near noisy schools and parks and all your neighbors get to know you.
His internet searches, listed chronologically: sex slave, volunteer sex slave, lava
Every time I hit my bowl my neighbors set off fireworks... I stop, they stop. I start again, they start again. Too high for this.
It was either a cute kinda butch tomgirl or a really fem guy. Either way, I made out with it. Bisexuality, my best friend.
oh my god. the driver of our party bus just said "no drugs unless you're sharin," my confidence in him is not high at the moment
I can't wait to go to grad school so I am not your high unemployed friend.
Hes stumbling drunkenly around the streets of New York with a balloon vagina on his head. I'd say hes having a good night.
That awkward moment when you can't tell what smells like tacos: you, the cat, or the strange guys blanket your so tenderly swaddled in.
there is no excuse for drinking mascato in your room alone while listening to one-hit wonders from the 90s
Just ignore his excessive use of exclamation points and be happy this one is of age.
You fucker.
I would like to dedicate my cray behavior this week to my uncontrollable hormones and wine. Both have totally Efff'ed with my life.
IN OTHER NEWS did you guys see Orlando Bloom's penis today? I did
Walking actually physically hurts. We should do it again some time.
So glad I can hide money in my wallet and drunk me is too stupid to find it. Hangover sushi ftw.
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