I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
This just in: I met a girl who does the phone sex phone lines, and shes' 5'4" 320. I'll never get a hardon again through a phone.
So some guy at the party is convinced I'm Edward Cullen. He keeps calling me "Twilight" and following me around with a stake. I'm concerned.
In hindsight, trust falling your grandma was a bad idea. Sorry about that.
I wore sweatpants. When I show up to a booty call in sweatpants there's your warning
This drunk girl wants you to know that I do actually like you. I'm not just using you for sex. I think you're cool.
Is it weird to say that Kobe reminds me of a wise brontosaurus?
Mate, you pissed in my bed. Then told me to "Just keep swimming"
we both turned hook ups into relationships we are crushing this thing called life right now.
I went from looking for a bong to home decor in a 10 minute span. This is what being an adult is all about!
I mean when you laced a shot with $200 worth of cocaine I could see why you'd be mad when somebody drops it
I don't think I used nearly enough fucks in my reply to convey the level of fuck him.
I woke up with a treasure map drawn on my ass. Whattt.
Why didn't we pregame for this?
Because it's breakfast!?!
Adulthood is putting your bongs in the dishwasher because you're too lazy to clean them manually.
Are you ok dude?
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