So theres a slight possibility i may not graduate according to planned because i was out getting laid instead of studying. And im okay with that.
I FOUND THE PROF I'M GOING TO FUCKKKK.
two words: fractured penis. two more: emergency room.
You leave a trail of fuck everywhere you go
you were leaning against the vending machine asking if there was a shower you could puke in.
Now one day I will be able to tell my children how a drag queen in a gay bar told mommy that bin laden was dead
apologized to him about 10 times for being drunk. told him about 15 times that he was "really pretty"
It was the classiest, most strategic and inspired vomiting I've ever witnessed. Like a blind mans first sunrise. A priests first prayer. Or a virgins first orgasm.
I wouldn't be surprised. You and I have basically synced up our brain chemistry by doing drugs together in the same way that two girls would sync their menstrual cycles by sharing a house.
I AM NOT THE MAN IN THIS RELATIONSHIP.
It's shit like this that makes people think we're gay.
This is Jewish guilt versus Irish Catholic guilt. We should tread carefully, or we could fuck up the space-time continuum or something.
I'm okay with that.
I'm in your room because it's a safe space. Is it ok to pee in here?
Update: day 5 and Scott has not left the apartment. Still smoking. Pizza roll supply dwindling.
I think I'm so comfortable in my sexual relationship because he mostly wants to see me naked with large plates of bacon tastefully placed upon my body
You told everybody that you were a dragon and then projectile vomited all over the kitchen.
Randomize
