We walked past a group of guys in front of a bar last night and they claimed, I quote: Wow, we'd actually have to work for that.
O.A.R does not stand for Old Recycled Abortions.
You would get kicked out of the study lounge for being drunk the monday of finals week
I will now attempt to shave my public hair into a Christmas tree.
Taped crackers to the wall. Sat I'n the dryer. Bobby had to pull me out by my hair. No more.
The highlight of my night was definitely explaining the bandaid on my nipple.
He started doing the gator chop at my vag and said he couldn't wait to "chomp" on it later...and I still slept with him. I hate gainesville.
You went to jail last night?!
Just a little bit.
Fuck that. I'm not afraid to die. I'll prove you can survive on a bagel bites and rum diet.
Look, opening a Guinness with a steak knife and nearly cutting your finger off to make another carbomb is always a good idea.
Im gonna get home and destroy this bag of chicken nuggets with my soul.
This text constitutes a formal request for sexual congress under the terms of our Relationship Agreement.
His dog ate the vibrator. The WHOLE vibrator. We spend the morning after trying to make it vomit up the battery. Why does this always happen to me?
Just had an emotional break through with the dog. That high.
I need to find a divorced guy with a boat and let my tits do the talking
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