I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Sorry for talking about super scientific shit so much last night, I know it bugs you sometimes when I don't shut up.
What? You sat on the couch for a solid 2 hours staring at your fingerprints and the only word that came out of your mouth was "how"
he has officially spend more money on me than any other boy. and its all gone to plan b. awesome.
I kept grabbing at Stephanie's boobs because I thought the leopard spots on her dress were popcorn.
Just remembered seeing jalepenos in my vomit last night. Reminded me to thank you for sharing your queso with me. You're a good friend.
I think it's starting to become crucial that I find a companion for my vagina.
So last night I taught an old homeless dude to respond to "Blue" so I could shout your my boy Blue at the party
We're like a dynamic duo.
Bisexual and Proud, Lesbian and Loud.
I'd like to preapologize if you or your mom see me naked at some point this weekend.
I woke up naked with a duck on my head. I think something went horribly wrong.
Word to the wise, never look up your hot young doctors on Facebook before you're discharged. You will find things and no longer be able to take them seriously.
I made a bucket list last night. Number 5: Will marry a wizard.
The internet was right. Snorting muscle relaxers is awful
Judging from the sharpie on my face, glitter on my chest and women's tiger print panties i'm wearing last night was a thing.
It's been a week I should not still be finding glitter in my pants.
Randomize
