I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Ok Ghana you win again. Tell you what...Double or nothing over women's tennis, basketball, hockey, war, baseball, golf, swimming, diving, oil spills, box office proceeds, internet porn sites, criminals incarcerated, women's downhill, bass fishing, NASCAR, or GDP?
He had Jail Releases phone number programed into speed dial on his phone.
And by hung out you mean you were in my bed for 5 minutes while your penis was in my mouth.
The walk home from the bar is FAR more shameful in daylight.
How do the freshmen here NOT understand the tricks we are playing on them by now? Doesn't bode well for grad numbers. Idiots.
to whom it may concern. if i am dead in colleens bed it is not her fault i slept in my scarf. my dads middle name is ronald.
I feel like this is the moment of high where you have to write these texts down to remember to text them and feel that somehow this is important to the continuity of the world.
Its ok. Im having a low day. About to mix cake mix with milk and drink it.
My new successful method of booty calling is sending a screencap of a map with the shortest route from their location to mine highlighted.
this hospital has no fireball
oh and apparently my boobs are named "have no fear" and "plenty o'beer"
I'm just imagining Oprah like "you're popping a boner, and you're popping a boner...EVERYONE IS POPPING A BONER"
Don't get mad at me now, you have my car and all the doughnuts
Her hot older sister walked in on us, looked me up and down, then stared straight at her and said "I call sloppy seconds on this one" then left. I'm still debating on how I feel about that.
Randomize
