Banjos are just sex machines. Like lights to moths, banjos are to hipster bitches.
curled up in a ball on my bed listening to my "cuddle with a boy" playlist. prettty high.
No. untill you have done a puke that contains nothing but semen and tequila, you do not 'feel my pain'
it was pretty much a given that i would lose my thong on dollar tequilla shot night
Doing blow at 6am to "wake myself up for clinicals" was a baaaaad idea
I let a naked juice spill down my leg for like 30 minutes bc i thought i was hallucinating that my leg was cold.
I dont think that yelling at the medic "Christmas is gone, fuck off santa" was the best idea when you couldnt feel your legs.
If I got to choose how I die, it would be in an Olympic sized pool of gin and tonic.
I'm studying. And by studying I mean I am laying on my floor drinking boones farm alone. Last two weeks. Fuck it.
We can't stop being roommates, you do such a good job of holding my hair back when I puke. I don't wanna buy hair elastics.
Only you would get a side of potential vagina with your sandwich
I'm not sure how to explain it, but I feel like our penises have a connection. Like long lost brothers. We're not even gay.
I ended up in th ER yelling my height weight and age
You're going to literally shit your fucking unholy pants when Jesus rides in with his dual light-sabers on his velociraptor and cleaves you in half.
For someone who's supposed to be gay Greg is really good at seducing me into things I don't wanna do
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