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.
Definitely just saw the guy I went on a date with Friday night dressed in medeival knight gear on the quad preparing for battle. Oh my God.
The saltiness of my tears mix perfectly with the tequila.
Let me just inform you of my purse contents right now. Three cum rags, a sock full of cum, xanax, and a fake moustache. This is my life.
The port-a-pottys are knocked over so I have nowhere to sleep.
tried doing a cartwheel after 10 beers. Guess who has a dislocated shoulder.
I think I just snorted head and shoulders by mistake.
Ok. So let me get this straight. She treats her vagina like a clown car, yet judges me for just making out with the guy that bought all of us shots?
He awkwardly handed me plan b on Pickens Street... it was like a sketchy drug deal.
You don't even know. The entire marching band thinks I'm an alcoholic.
I puked on his mom. Not my proudest moment
it was one of those unspoken contracts of silence like "I teach your daughter and you work at a strip club"...I don't tell if you don't
THEY'RE HAVING SEX ON A HORSE AND THE HORSE DOESN'T EVEN CARE.
For future reference: bathtub full of cheeseburgers = win.
I just saw a guy faceplant off a unicycle while holding a saxophone, while his buddy riding another unicycle and sporting a flute rode by laughing
Only at UConn...
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