I am dying of drunk and no thats not a typo.
Please tell me I didn't pass out while we were having sex last night... and if so I am sooooo sorry.
I bet he comes in French.
I wish everyone walked around campus with a video of what they did this weekend above their heads.
I mean I'm forever immortalized as the one who puked in his dad's straw hat.
He told me that a camel appeared out of nowhere and it told him to quit smoking...
Mistake of the day: loudly discussing my gay hookups on the phone at the dmv in upstate NY... this must be what leprosy feels like
I don't care if there's a party or not. I just want to be half naked in a cape with a never-ending supply of alcohol within arm's length at all times. Make it happen.
I wonder if her husband knows I have my own drawer at the apartment
The acoustics in my bra are fantastic.
It's like past high you was looking out for future high you by rolling that joint and leaving it in your coat pocket. What a Halloween miracle
I sent him a picture of my boobs instead of saying good morning. I'm trying to tell him how I feel in a language he'll understand.
From the same High Brittany who brought you such thoughts as, "Fuck, am I wearing shoes?" Comes High Brittany on a date! Stay tuned. This will be interesting.
I am in a hotel room with 10 people. John is in bed eating an industrial sized pan of mashed potatoes. I think a non insignificant number of people saw my nipples.
I'd marry him just to keep his penis in the country
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