Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
So Ive decided I have serious issues. Im walking around the school with a bag labeled booze money collecting from people while slightly hungover at 8:20 in the morning, and nobody is questioning me.
I gambled and lost. Had to pull into a funeral home to clean up with a copy of my resume.
Jesus people on campus asked me what i do for joy. I said i love sinning especially pre-marital sex.
you were smoking 3 cigarettes at once saying 'cancer isn't real! Its all in your head!'
It's sad the highlight of the night was you didn't electrocute yourself again.
I was freaked out. No man over 50 is allowed to touch me. Ever. Unless you're Michael Bolton. Then please do.
Fair warning: We've transformed the living room into a giant tent.
We had fun with our Indiana Jones role-playing until I whipped myself in the dick with my belt.
I am both excited and frightened by the fact that this much everclear is legal here. Best vacation ever.
And I just want you to know I got myself into this mess. I gotta get myself out. Plus, don't you only need one kidney?
The only thing about him that I appreciated was that he destroyed the bathroom at your birthday and missed singing to you. And we all knew.
I said "one day" and that day is not today
This will never work. His dick is smaller than mine.
Wow. And yours is kind of small.
RIGHT?
I. Am. Not. Tattooing. My. Penis.
Randomize
