I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
my ex gf has sooo many hot friends... i feel like im at a grocery store when on her fb... just shopping around.
He was sitting on the bathroom floor, swirling his finger in the toilet singing the Laguna Beach theme song. I don't know whether to laugh or help him.
I showed remarkable dignity in such a compromising situation. Except I came off as sort of a blue ball giver.
After you vomited on the patrol car, you thanked the officer for helping you up off the ground. I don't think you realized you were being arrested.
I filled this oven with as much Pizza as I could, and I've been eating out of it for three days.
Just ate the last piece. Refilling the oven.
The last thing I remember was paying off her younger brother not to judge me, then puking on his shoes.
I'm at a bar where I literally walked in to the bathroom and some chick told me to never go to San Joaquin state pen
YOHYFONSO!! YOU ONLY HAVE YOUR FIRST ONE NIGHT STAND ONCE!!
Got serenaded to on the streets of Denver...the song was about a young banana that made really big decisions, got stds, and joined a gang. I think I like Colorado
Get the fuck back here. Your brother taped bottle rockets to the front of his scooter and is bombing around screaming, "Rest in peace, Goose!"
I pulled a muscle last night drunk dirty snapchatting him
I'm like bob the builder except I'm fixing boners.
And by "have lunch together" you mean me giving you a blow job in the back of your Tahoe, right?
By the time we got to McDonald's you were sharing a Big Mac with a stripper.
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