I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
i think guys can sense when i'm not wearing underwear
Thats the last time I go out drinking with my Irish friends. Two shots of flaming sambucca = bar on fire. I was only trying to high five the barman.
Reach down the front of your pants and feel around for a while. When you find your balls, leave the library and meet me at the bar.
You rolled out of the car, got on all fours and puked then just nonchalantly stood up and waved goodbye and thanks for the ride.
Weekday college schedule so far: get high as tits. Watch Family Guy marathons. Repeat.
Shirtless guy staggering down the sidewalk, puking into a Prada shopping bag. Ahhh, the walk of shame in Boystown.
I'm standing at the bottom of the driveway w a sign that says plow me
I feel like if you're funneling natty lights on a Wednesday at 2:30pm at the apartment complex pool during finals week, you probably don't have your priorities straight.
I took a pregnancy test at Pancheros a bit ago.
I told him I just left the convent and really wanted a man. He fell for it. Sure beats telling him I'm a nympho stalker that followed him to the bar when I saw his beard.
I was afraid I was gonna get a URI, so I peed on his front porch.
This is why I can't take dates to shows... I've literally made out with everyone in this band. And two of the guys in the crowd. And the bartender.
fucking him is like fucking old faithful. you could set your watch by his orgasms.
When I came she triumphantly exclaimed, "MUAHAHA VICTORY IS MINE!"
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