So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
i know, but like... i wanna be a CLASSY i'm-stealing-your-date kind of slutty...
My printer just jammed because one of the condom wrappers I threw when we had sex in my dorm
they're like a gay fantastic four
I just realized that my phone was set to Brazilian time...what the fuck happened last night
I'm playing a little game called "how many shots of jack can I take before I become a shit show tonight". All front row seats are sold out.
Luckily my prof thought I was puking from nerves and gave me motivational mini speeches the entire final.
Haha! I've never met his girlfriend, so my main focus will be not saying,"you're the only person in this room that doesn't know what my vagina feels like."
YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU CAUGHT A TAXI HOME. SARAH SAID THE POLICE DROPPED YOU OFF.
I just did something so unspeakable in the panera bathroom that their health score dropped 10 points.
On the plus side I'm getting really good at painting the inside of a toilet with my bowels.
Ah. Hot spring. Infinitely less skeevy than a hot tub. These North Carolinian dudes are all class.
He makes balloon animals that get you high? Hell yeah invite him over!
All boys are excommunicated from my vagina until further notice.
He was publicly touching my boobs before I even knew he's a famous World Cup skier.... That's how hot he was
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