I need to get the stench of sex and broken dreams out of my room
I just fell down the stairs in the library and further deviated my septum. That's why I don't study.
Two portable blenders. We are going to be popular and dangerous.
This is great- I found hangover detoxifying bath salt online. It flushes out the alcohol. We need this.
There was a guy on the elevator dressed as santa in flip-flops giving away beer.
After blacking out and loosing my phone for a month, I found it in the parking lot across the street. Last text "rager in the street". I remember none of this.
The rest of us are chipping in to soundproof your bedroom. This is getting ridiculous.
If her puking on your pool table is her sign of a good night, it's time to intervene.
My tub is filled with twinkies which would be awesome if they were still wrapped and not floating in a mixture of bath water and what appears to be vomit.
No judgement. Sometimes you gotta twerk on a legends face.
NO. FUCK YOU. I HOPE SOMEONE REPLACES YOUR LUBE WITH HOT SAUCE.
And he's in a frat. Everyone in a frat is gay. It's science.
Everyone thinks it's an okay idea now until I'm overdoing it on the vodka/clubs, dancing on a table, trying to make out with the groom.
I don't suppose you have a recipe for a cocktail made of bitter resignation, regretting everything, poor life descisions and deep-seated self-loathing?
I need to go to St. Louis more often. The brides sorority sisters were practically fighting over me once they heard I work on Wall St.
Randomize
