I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Dude just fell down the stars trying to leave class early, the prof just looks down at him and says"thats what you get"
all i know is that each time we woke up we were at a different chinese restaurant. help.
Well at least he stopped keeping track of money by bottles of McCormick.
I've reached the point to where my pre-gaming needs to be limited to pre-inning-ing
Can't decide which I like more. Telling a girl she's pregnant or telling her she has herpes. It's the little things that make medicine tolerable.
I fcuked ip.
Is this your way of telling me that you got drunk in your office before meeting with your dissertation advisor again? Or that you finally banged that freshman fraternity pledge?
so I am that guy with the red solo cup in class. someone has to step it up.
Apparently my face was in the trashcan and in between throw ups I was screaming LOS DIABLOS. I woke up this morning with a bird flying around my room. Nobody seems as concerned as I am.
I think i just shit in their garbage can, I'm ready for that ride u owe bro.
I mean it's a good blow job, but it's not worth the four hour round trip.
Twice. I only peed my pants twice tonight.
I'm now at a gay bar with our relatives
why did you kick open the doors at church screaming whos ready to party?
Nothing like having a family watch you dry heave at the end of the dock
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