I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Hello rock bottom. My name is Jared. Nice to meet you.
which gay bar do you need a ride home from?
Just chased ups truck with a half wiped ass for you. You're making dinner tonight
I'm wearing the jeans from casino night. Tell me why I have a napkin in my pocket that says 'dont fear me'? I'm hoping it was just a coincidence.
I called him daddy. To his face. Somewhat sober. What more could I do?
An hour ago, you were stranded out of state, and now you're getting laid? You are a god. Whatever you do, don't ask her name.
I want to play lord of the rings tonight. And by that I mean get really drunk, potentially lost, and go trekking through the woods or climbing shit. I want all of you there. You are the fellowship. This is a mass text. I am insanely high.
I tried to find the bar, ended up at a car dealership. Then the alarms went off.
Today is the day I die from a hangover. I love you, mom. Farewell.
I'M CUDDLING WITH MY CAT AND THAT GUY SENT ME A DICK PIC. UNANNOUNCED DICK PICS ARE TERRIFYING AND MY CAT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME
I just want to have sex and eat dumplings. Is that so much to ask?
I smoked a joint in the bathtub at 8 am then went back to bed
new low: I blocked him from seeing my snapchat story in hopes he will text me because he'll be afraid I'm dead or something
it's like my ID runs away from me when it knows it's time for me to drink
I'm drunkenly throwing popcorn at a spider, fuck him. Why does his scary 8 legs get to be happy?
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