...there is blood under my fingernails.
...I hope my roomates are okay.
why are there post-it notes all around the apartment labeled where you guys had sex and in what position
And now we have yet another reason to never travel to Detroit
In a meeting with the accounting department. This shit is even more boring in real life and there isn't a professor to wake me up.
you know it's time to start studying when you've procrastinated to the point where you're reading your roommate's ex-boyfriend's wall posts from 2006.
Wow way to turn my death into an oppurtunity to get laid
Find out what day classes start and I will come down to Richmond that weekend. Any broad who claims to be 18-21 will be promptly ID'd. My job has trained me to spot a fake from a mile away, and I don't need a statutory rape charge.
I think the fact that I shit my pants, threw away my underwear in a frat bathroom, lost my socks down a drain in the front yard and still got laid... deserves some sort of a victory drink for myself or a blowjob for him since he was such a good sport.
I'm going to have to start playing roller derby again so I can blame my sex-related bruises on that.
Last thing I ever expected to say, "Get your finger out of my ear or I will stop sucking your dick."
Like wrapping my dick in silk, wrapping that in velvet, and putting it in a cloud. A warm, tight, wet cloud.
There a special place in hell for drunk criers. A special FUCKING PLACE
My breasts were aching with rage.
There is a huge naked guy in the kitchen with the boner of a lifetime and what I believe is an assault rifle casually resting on his shoulder.
you should just get a floor plan of your dorm and start checking off rooms.
Randomize
