I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I stuck a note to his door with my gum explaining why i couldn't spend the night. as i was walking away, he opened the door...i fell down and played dead. deffinitly didn't see me.
The worst part was I wasn't conscious enough to move out of the way, I knew i was being puked on but I couldn't move.
all law school has taught me so far is how to fart quietly during lectures and how to out-argue the ice cream guy when he screws me out of extra toppings.
He's minimum effort, but maximum fuck.
They put 3 tbs of cinnamon in vodka shots and called it the "cinnamon death challenge"
you guys just sat there and simultaneously smoked bowls staring at each other... it was like a bowl off or something.
i would have fingered myself to death by now but the dog wont stop staring at me
Happy birthday, you long dick monster
I feel as bad as you right now. I'm about to use one girls car to go see another one
Fuck ya. But normally I drove one girls car picking up a different girl while texting another girl lol
The inflatable penis from those pics was mine... We broke him that night
How do I go about this? "Hey, its my birthday in 40 minutes. Would you like to come over for some sex? Also, please bring snacks"?
It's official. Post baseball sex is better than post hockey sex. I hope the Blue Jays win the world series.
I really hope this is just a phase, because I am not capable of carrying both of our drunken whore asses through life. Too much dead weight....
We're about to get drunk and it feels wrong without you
Randomize
