I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I'll tell you what, we couldn't have asked for better binge-drinking weather.
apparently i'm the only person who has heard from her since saturday. she texted me "burt reynolds" at 2am sunday
I'm gonna go out in a limb and say living out middle school fantasies is never a good idea
Using his name makes it all too personal. I refuse to get attached to this one. This is all about ass. He doesn't get a name.
A horseman, i repeat, a man on a horse downtown just told me i was gorgeous and my friends were not. Not drunk enough.
The ratio of last drink to last smoke is so tricky. This could go on until the booze is gone
Well you ended up trying to convince two Greek girls that you were Greek, but failed massively by shouting at them in Spanish, and then almost vomiting after taking way too much snuff. Maybe lay off the guinness next time?
I'm sure nobody at Walmart was wondering why I was wearing a glittery tutu and needed $300 changed into small bills
Also the girl beside me smells like she's been in a deep fryer.
Can you have a quarter life crisis another time? I'm trying to masterbate.
I've talked to too many cops in one week and I haven't even committed any crimes. I hate the suburbs
I sucked his dick by a creek, how romantic.
After you punched me you ran away and it took an hour to find you... On the wrong floor... Sitting alone saying "it doesnt make sense"
Currently eating a pop tart in my underwear waiting for the washer. Not one of my prouder moments.
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