Well, according to foursquare I checked in "@under the bushes" at 3:27am. This could explain some things.
Like that girl needs to get her shit together. For her vagina's sake.
Show him your tits if he says no
They're not help-me-out-of-jams tits. They're I-fake-people-into-thinking-they-look-good tits.
He wanted to feed hamburgers to the homeless... as a first date... who the fuck is this kid
So half of us were already throwing up outside when the Ukrainians ask us if we're ready to start partying yet. I love this country.
So, I'm tripsitting Ruben cause he's on LSD, and he's starting to eat the chair because 'it is evil' according to him... I can't choose: should I stop him or film it?
Welcome to the difference between being FWBs (remember how we used to see who could get more lap dances a night?) and being in a relationship. Fun, huh?
Is it a bad thing that I'm trimming my nose hairs in anticipation for the 8ball to be delivered?
He's like... An octopus that touches my vagina in all these diff ways at the right times. It's almost unsettling
I just farted so loud someone came to check on me. Thought something fell in my office.
8 stitches. Next time I decide to twerk while doing a keg stand, stop me.
I feel as though I look like a mom with a substance abuse problem
I ran into a wall that clearly had things popping out. My eyebrow was bruised, both arms, the bottom of my foot. Lost half of my finger nail, my fake eyelash was stuck in my hair and I have about 47 blurry pictures of a half naked zombie DJ.
At least your nickname is not Plunge Slut and that nickname is not in a published thesis work
The body is still out there. I don't think my trainer realized when he asked me not to drink for 24 days, how often I see dead people
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