I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
i just made a "things you cannot forget to do this week just because you're high" list.
I'm questioning the dried chocolate syrup on my tits.
There were 11 girls in that minivan and everyone was either puking, crying, or yelling "we're a total shit show"
She kept sniffing my sweater and tried to guess what type of detergent I use.
Day #3 of being the only sober person at the bar. This is depression.
this night may include but is not limited to : police encounters, wild animals, stomach pumping, and waking up in a field
I really wanna just be like, can you just eat me out and stop whining
I think that would solve a million problems
WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BURPS IN MY SMALL, INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE BODY
She is dumping me if she doesn't get a ring by Valentines. So one more month of free sex and it will be back to the right hand.
I'm not gonna ask the guy I've fucked like 3 times if he is insecure about his eyebrows.
The prescription the hospital gave me for pain and nausea doubles for my hangovers... Maybe I'll hit up the ER more often
You can’t homewreck what the Lord hath brought together.
Real life skills section of my resume: blow jobs, food knowledge trivia, sarcasm, mascaera application, sexting, tolerance of rail liquors
we found her on the beach half naked talking to a palm tree
Which half?
Randomize