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.
the truckdriver in the lane next to me just looked down and motorboated in my direction.
It's official. I'm a squirter. Wasn't a one time thing.
While I was fucking her, they came in and served us both weed from a hookah. best. friends. ever.
if you don't go out with us, what are you gonna do? you're gonna go home and watch biodome and masturbate to texts from your east coast boyfriend and see the facebook pictures from the party when you wake up.
any interest in drunk sledding later? if not, any interest in driving me to the hospital later?
she is legit wearing a plastic bag around her neck as a necklace. she says it serves two purposes.
winnie the pooh came out of nowhere and offered me a burrito...it was a fucking amazing burrito.
Yeahhh, everybody is so helpful when a pretty girl is crying hysterically and has only one shoe and a six pack.
there's still three solo cups of your puke in my basement. so that needs to be solved at some point.
I mean seriously, she can have his dick anytime and im over here salivating like a thirsty bitch.
you hit your head on the sneeze guard and passed out at Pizza Hut they called the police
he's spending the night tonight. if i can walk straight tomorrow i'll be pissed.
Well, if I'm gonna go gay, it's gonna be for NPH
He was singing on top of spaghetti, and then started crying. He said it was the saddest song ever, "so so sad".
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