i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
My vagina has officially become a vortex for sexually confused frat guys.
Shoot me. Guy hitting on me with a beaver on his head. Says it is his spirit animal.
professor came back from spring break missing a tooth
I fell asleep with all the lights and heat on in the apartment with windows open, Earth Hour is lost on people like me.
She made me sing happy birthday to myself at the urinal.
your drunk ass trust falled a guy double fisting bud limes and as a result your head bounced off the patio table. So that might explain the stitches on the back of your head.
This is ridiculous. I’m in fucking college getting high off a potato.
Well my unnaturally hairy chest finally came in handy. It took at least an hour to shave the american flag into my chest but I definitely went America all over that party
Hey, I found that piece of pizza you lost in my bed last night. Never again...
I'm not asking for life coaching, I'm just asking if you know where I left my underpants.
I yelled at him as he left "you broke up with me. You lost your blow job privileges"
So your telling me I can lick your ass but you CAN'T spend my money
I trusted a fart in Toronto. NEVER TRUST A FART IN TORONTO.
Being single again makes you realize how guys can go from licking your asshole one night to never texting you again
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