One of my students just wrote an essay on how ninjas, like drug addicts, must realize they need help before they can get better...I gave it an A+
I woke up, not remembering how or when or why i was even there and looked over to find Steph spooning with an adult black man.
dude skip the party. it is a fucking post office here
what the hell does that mean?
nothing good but a whole lotta male and packages
I walk in to see her roommate half naked on their stripper pole. I knew I was home.
You slow danced with your carpet steamer last night.
I feel like now would be a good time to apologize for vomiting in your eye
I know. You don't know poor life choice until your sitting on the floor of a community bathroom waiting to vomit at 4 am
making an indian outfit so we can be pochohantas and john smith and fuck in the canoe on the night float
Reached a new low. Drinking Wine from my thermos while on the stair master.
Shots. Renamed a guy (he looked like a Scott to me), running, bloody Marys, walk to Safeway, donuts, ride home from someones husband, Nurse Jackie. FIN.
Meanwhile I'm working a fucking flute workshop and I'm one high c away from shoving a flute up the asshole of the next passerby
I'll be in SoCal at my bachelorette party, aka embracing a fireman covered in KY and chocolate shavings.
I'll pay you back with progressively deviant sexual favors.
STOP PUTTING PICTURES OF JONAH HILL IN MY KITCHEN CABINETS!
I feel like we'd have a lot of fun being drunk at a dog show.
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