I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I made out with four boys last night, AND EXCUSE ME WHILE I COUNT HOW MANY GIRLS.
How do you tell if you're on the terrorist watch list?
No I remember falling down the stairs I just don't remember it hurting.
Give me a few hours to remember what being sober feels like.
Wedding cake is always the best dance partner. In the corner. With a jack and coke. And while I'm crying. Listening to "Almost Paradise".
I'm still drunk. I put on workout clothes this morning and just puked in my bathroom. That's the same as going to the gym, right?
Two days later and my throat is still sore. That bong is a double edged sword.
I feel like I would find myself in so much trouble if I hadn't married my DD.
So this is completely apropos of nothing, but I have a feeling that a friend of mine might be a good match for you. Can I set you two up on a date? Oh, and it seems that we live a block away from each other and aren't having sexy times. This is ridiculous. By the way, there's a chance that I might be a tad drunk. Still though, there's a very *good* chance that you and Mr. X would get along.
Wrong. I really wanted to see the movie. And she was on top of me like she was riding a mechanical bull. Who am I to complain? I live to serve.
Lesbians had sex in my bed last night. It's a thing of pride
Like I blink, and he's face first in my vagina.
I'm "drunk text both siblings" drunk.
Hey this is your roommate. You know the one that let you have sex with her while you called out your exs name and cried?
I have no recollection of that. You must have the wrong number. P.s. your thongs still on the ceiling fan.
Randomize
