I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
this study room smells like vodka
the study room thinks the same about you
i dont mean to point any fingers but there is a lot of urine in the kitchen
I'm not a creep or anything, just a lost soul looking for a good lay
Just learned the hard way that dicks can bruise the back of your throat to the extent that you cant eat. You're dead to me.
What did you wear last night? Because I'm pretty sure there are atleast 4 Facebook statuses about your walk of shame.
I put labels all over the house on things I think are mine. A cactus, the dog, and a bottle of wine.
I broke up with him in the bar & then asked him if he wanted to have a contest to see who gets the most numbers. I say I took that break up well
I've got mace and a condom. Ready to roll either way and keeping my pimp hand strong.
I folded my dollar bills into mustaches in preparation for our trip to the strip club
I Have a huge scrape on my knee and I need a better excuse than dry humping on a park bench...
What! You have to go to class. Otherwise, you're wasting money that could have been spent on weed. Gotta get that shit in perspective.
The more I piece together last night the more I want to vomit it out of my brain.
i don't think i have enough personality to make it through this date sober.
The cat ate a weed mint. This is not a drill
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