I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I threw up under water while wearing a hockey helmet last night. Awesome.
apparently it's not kosher to shit in a litter box when there's a line for the bathroom
you threw up in the bushes next to the ABC store and kept saying "you're home, blueberry vodka, you're home!"
This wouldn't happen so much if fat girls would just stop being so damn easy.
she was like the girl next door.. if you lived next door to a whorehouse
I love how my cats smell like pot.
Protocol on turning down a date from someone in the House of Representatives?
the outcome of this sandwich determines whether or not i do anything else with my day..
we traced the origins of this shit fest of a relationship back to a single instance of road head. then we did a reinacment
I didn't get a chance to take any pics but the mental snapshot of her boyfriend calling her directly after we finished was a really special moment I wish I could properly share with you.
I will have you again some day my love. And our divorce will be magnificent
they asked me about my neuroscience major and I said 'the brain is the outer space of the body' and passed out. it appears my ivy league education is not going to waste
My boss doesn't know what jello shots are. I've lost faith in this company.
Somehow my family started talking about sex toys at breakfast.
Randomize
