Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
my clit piercing makes the metal detector go off
about to play the homeward bound drinking game. alone. what are you doing tonight?
Well I tried to steal a golf cart. I fought with the Chick-Fil-A cow. And other things.
I can't believe we had "50th anniversary of man in space" sex.
Last time I get high to write a paper the night before it's due. "Tiny Wings and sexuality" is not an acceptable topic to for a paper. Class in 30 minutes. I'm fucked...
I get off at the next exit which doesn't have a shoulder, a guy is riding my ass so I cant stop. I think I got as much puke on his car as on mine.
as soon as I stop standing here with one leg up on my bathroom counter admiring my balls, I'm going to go tan. and then you may come over.
If I had pants on, you wouldn't be getting this text message
There's a burrito next to my bed. Did you buy it for me or is the Chipotle fairy real? And why am I naked?
Is there a lightning bolt coming out of your boner right now?!
I woke up in a front yard I didn't recognize to a grandma tapping me with her foot. What was in that punch?
We were covered in sweat and glitter, making out onstage, in front of everyone. I think it was a good night.
I have mastered the art of having sex on monkey bars.
Damn that sucks I haven't needed pants the whole time i've been here
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