I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Yes, that was me on the jumbo tron. No, i don't know why i was hiding.
Well it went from being a hug to a straight out tackle through the back door.
I could end up kidnapped. Or worse, the night will be really awkward.
nah, they dropped the charges. apparently ripping his junk when he tried to hop the fence seemed like punishment enough...
If you wake up soonish don't worry. I took your dog to burger king and now we're going to see some nice girls.
We fist bumped behind their backs while drunk hooking up with them... Do other girls do this too? Or is it just us?
So apparently I threw a potted plant at a clown last night and told him to get his life together.
The heart of my unhappiness in my job is that it's not a place where coworkers and I can draw dicks on everything to amuse each other
I draw, I play three woodwind instruments, I press buttons for eight hours at work and Im studying to be a gynecologist... I guarantee I can make you squirt, babe.
Tomorrow's Mother's Day and the only thing I can afford is beer and the McDonalds dollar menu. Do you think a Budweiser and a Big Mac says thank you for me fucking up your life since 1990?
He is such a generous lover, I can look past the fact his name is fucking Bob.
Everyone says she blew me in the bathroom, so I believe it, I just don't REMEMBER.
He corrected my spelling during sexting.
Oh. My. God. It is NOT okay to drink Johnny Walker when there is no Jameson. My skull is eating my brain.
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