I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Dude you didn't move for like 2 hours then suddenly sang the chorus to ghetto superstar and passed back out
I have been drinking at the bar so long today that I literally just found a spiderweb from my leg to the bar.
The best thing about my promotion is that I now have an office with a door. I can take my naps in peace instead of leaning my head against the stall in the bathroom.
I can't believe they pay you six figures. I hate you.
Im sitting on the exxon bathroom floor, idk if its healthy but it sure is cold
I got pulled into the conversation by "she sleeps with everybody" then "she" involved sleeping with "cocks the size of a viva burrito"
hey sorry if you felt me holding your hand in the middle of the night I was actually just checking if you had a pulse
he just gave me a love letter in polish. he thinks i speak polish. I DONT SPEAK POLISH
I'm not trying to be dramatic but if someone makes you choose between getting a Brazilian or dying. For the sake of your sanity just fucking die
It's was about average. But he had a tat on his thigh that said "pull-out n' rollout" so I won't have to worry about a round two request.
So if I tell her fire is hot and it will burn her... she's probably just going to keep throwing her vagina at it huh?
Before we rave about the healing powers of your penis, remember it nearly killed me as well.
Ran out of plates, so I'm using my sociology notes. Looks like they will finally have a practical use.
I'm sitting on the toilet eating a taco... I feel like a female Elvis.
Sitting in my junior high parking lot high on ambien talking to a stranger I met on tinder. What is life?
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