I think I died a long time ago.
We've reached that awkward stage of the relationship where he's in love with me when he's drunk, but sober him is still afraid of commitment.
my life is one jail cell away from being a bad country music song.
I have 20 seconds to get my life together and look presentable.
Im going to hell in a hand basket. With a ribbon tied to my head. I'll be like a puppy for the devil.
IT'S A HOLY FESTIVAL. A BUDDHIST CELEBRATION OF PENIS.
The funny thing is, we kinda did bring guys home cause you had a fort...
I did sing regulators with a random black dude at The Rail without looking at the screen, hugged him and walked off stage. I pretty much live up to all expectations.
I came in and I guess my parents didn't hear me. My dad just said "Don't be lazy, RIDE IT." to my mom. Never coming home again.
I feel like if you're funneling natty lights on a Wednesday at 2:30pm at the apartment complex pool during finals week, you probably don't have your priorities straight.
He's gonna be so upset when he get's a real job and can't do serious drugs.
I don't think stranger penis made your tonsils bleed
Waffles and pussy, what else is there?
What happened last night and why am I partially covered in queso?
He looks like a Mormon from a lifetime movie. Oddly I wanna give him a hand job
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