Can i not drive my cunt home
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
It's like a choose-your-own-adventure. But the adventure is already chosen for you. And it sucks.
So im walking through ohare and this guy walks by with a cart full of big bottles of liquor. I want to know what flight hes on.
I have seen more male genitalia at this party tonight than I ever want to see again in my entire life.
We somehow managed to get the sumo-wrestler costume into the washing machine, but I don't think the cupcake icing completely came off... And it still smells like tequila.
My vagina is not really on board with my "emotional issues"
This is literally engraved into my seat "Need crack?" And then there's a number. This isn't real.
I still have beer shits from last weekend. Dying from dysentary is a real threat at this point.
Nothing with ever convince me that she wasnt purposely left behind by our mother to ruin my life and fuck our family
So, when I got arrested, they fingerprinted me. I'm getting my nails done right now and I'm pretty sure he's filing off my prints. Worth the $30.
I feel like my body was put in a dryer with rocks set on permanent press.
I don't know how to reply to him. 'I'm glad the ecstasy my friend tricked you into taking wore off'...? It just doesn't seem sincere
Guys are like someone else's baby; i'll play with them but if responsibility is involved i'll hand them off.
Just stay awake and booze cruise it to class. How are you a senior and have never went to class drunk? No excuses, I have a better gpa.
Randomize
