It's like a choose-your-own-adventure. But the adventure is already chosen for you. And it sucks.
They had a "who can aim further away from the toilet" contest. I'm now washing piss off my ceiling.
curled up in a ball on my bed listening to my "cuddle with a boy" playlist. prettty high.
we made malted milkshakes. malt as in malt liqour.
I was unaware that a tutu and pasties was appropriate attire to this
I just fell down the stairs in the library and further deviated my septum. That's why I don't study.
I just puked so hard I pissed myself. Outta my ass. I just won hangover of the century.
Come in your red robin gear. If you smell like French fries we can make love.
I yield to the immortal wisdom of one ludacris, who famously wrote, "can't turn a hoe in to a housewife." Indeed, ludacris, indeed.
We found you wrapped up in a tarp in the garage the next morning, thats how real shit got.
Listen, if I miss the flight to Vegas because she's still rimming my ass, it will have been worth it.
You left me a message at 3am crying because you just found out there's a Paddington Bear statue in Peru.
Worst case scenario- he paid me for sex with meatloaf. There are worse thing, right? I mean at least is was good meatloaf.
Sex was followed by homemade breadsticks. I waited till after the breadsticks were gone to tell her i had a gf.
I pointed at him and said “there goes mr fuckwad”
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