I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
There are only two things that should be in vaginas... penises and vegetables
Great. Now I'm always going to be the roommate that boned a guy with a third nipple.
Just found out I called my mom at six in the morning to ask where the bong was. I win.
Pizza and koolaid didn't even make me feel better. This hangover means business
Having a heartfelt conversation with your boyfriends mom while sexting her son. If that's not multitasking, I don't know what is.
She's licking the whiskey out of the carpet. I think we may be soulmates.
I think my teeth are moving, they feel like people.
Just keep your throat open and beer will always find its way in.
I made a separate snapchat account so I could swap nudes with a guy from omegle.
Why do all of your bad decisions sound like fucked up mad libs?
Just beer bonged through a snorkel, add that to the list
i'm extremely hungover on the ski bus and the driver is playing abba. this. is. not. okay.
So, I woke up under a table with an alarm clock on my face, my hair in a bag of popcorn, and my phone charger wrapped around me.. what happened?
The cards I get dealt on tinder now are karma for fucking a married man while I was in high school.
It's fucking 2020, I should be able to watch Netflix in the buff while making brownies without you getting preachy about it.
Randomize
