Call me back. I want to hear your side of the dead cat in my garage story.
You asked the waitress for a vasectomy and handed her a butter knife, like you were ordering something from the menu
I guess you can say it's a tradition... whoever brings home the ugliest guy has to do all the cleaning the next day
found a naked boy completely buried under a pile of her clothes and terrified...she says she was "saving him for later"
I mean we've tried to get high on nutmeg, we clearly dont know the definition of "too far"
4pm on a Sunday....roomate fucking like a wildabeast while I have a organic chemistry study group in my kitchen.
You are the only person I know who got away with wearing a turtleneck while getting laid. ONLY person.
Moral of the story: If you're gonna throw a glass of wine in a guy's face, don't do it in your own kitchen.
You're like my zumba instructor for alcoholism right now
I consented to having my finger branded. How was your night?
I want "hickeys on my ass" sex
I hurt so much. Not in the emotional way, but in the I went to dive bars sorta way.
Only you could successfully troll for dick at a Hillel bake sale.
There's times when I just want to bottle my farts for later they're so insane.
I may forget my underwear, but you can count on me for drugs and plan b
Randomize
