I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
since i spend so many of my nights sleeping on the bathroom floor i think im going to remove all toiletries from under my sink and replace them with a pillow and blanket.
ISS teacher has a tramp stamp.
Shotgun.
Well, I guess this was as good a night as any to find out I don't know how to use my fire extinguisher.
His housemate was playing a sad violin solo for me on my way out. God I hate musicians.
She was mad I came so fast. I was like, It's the Olympics! Fastest time wins! We can train you in the offseason.
Hey, ok if I kidnap you? I wanna test a theory.
I'm on the bus, watching a girl shush her balloons.
Then he texted me that I was the "good kind" of fat.
Were you seriously humming twinkle twinkle little star while cupping my balls?
The fact that I bookended my summer with pregnancy scares doesn't upset me. The fact that he's a trombone major does...
I just kept hitting the drum to get thru the crowd to the bar. Surprisingly it worked
Sleeping with him wouldn't be considered hoeing out... It seems more like babysitting.
All I remember is being lured out to sit by the fire by you holding a piece of pizza in front of me
He's here walking around DRUNK AS FUCK in a Kobe Bryant number 8 jersey... Tucked in.
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