I picked my nose. Flicked it. I heard it hit something. Next thing I know, it's floating around in my wine glass.
If I say "It's good enough" and I'm not talking about a sandwhich, that's your queue to stop me, you're supposed to be my friend.
Two girls are doing the worm relatively well on the bar floor after the fact I just saw one puke in the trash
there's a guy pushing a keg up the street in a shopping cart. you have to love graduation
The bartender gave me the kids toys. Paddle ball & a gecko.
She dumped a fish bowl of alcohol on herself. Just like flash dance.
I'm covered in sharpie and the girl next to me just said something smells like fried food. Hint: it's me. Why am I in class?
God I feel like the rain man of hangovers.
He's trying to marry me, when is the appropriate time to tell him my real name and that Dallas is a completely fictitious slutty alter ego? I need the advice of someone with morals.
Your lack of enthusiasm for my exciting news of drunken debauchery with an otherwise occupied vagina of one of my greatest conquests yet disturbs me. I'm not happy with you
You know you've got awesome issues when the main deciding factor of whether or not to cut your nails depends on nacho consumption in the near future
JUST BECAUSE I LIKE TO BE TIED UP AND SPANKED DOESNT MEAN IM GOING TO LIKE TO BE TIED UP AND SPANKED AT WORK
Checking my Tinder matches as I sit here in the waiting room at Planned Parenthood. I can't be stopped.
I know! It's like he knows when my vagina wants to misbehave!
He climbed on the counter and announced it was time for something called The Cocktacular and all the girls immediately left. He cockblocked the entire fraternity!
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