I'm going to write a book about John. It's going to be called big dreams, little dick
you don't seem to understand just how much pasta i spilled on my bed last night.
Who's got a bloodstream full of margaritas by 2pm? Not you, that's for sure, because you've got one of those "real" jobs.
In class ... We were just assigned groups for the quarter... Remember that night we took shots from that guys pants? I now know his name
You should seriously consider super glueing your knees together
The power of my vagina can withstand any attempt of celibacy
To drunk to make oatmeal. I'm pouring it into my mouth and gargling it with beer. Ive made maple brown sugar bud light
the potatoes in the margarita machine wasn't the breaking point. its when he turned on the stove and put a bunch of bottle rockets on it that i knew the night had prematurely failed
I miss you too. And it was nice meeting your brother while I was mounting you
I can't blame him for thinking that then, placing a cone shaped potato chip on the tip of his penis post bj is not a normal act of love
Sorry man, but I'd rather do drugs with strangers than watch sports with you. It's not personal, drugs always beat sports.
You know it was a weird week when you have a mystery bruise and youre unsure if it was from crazy sex or getting bit by a duck. Life.
When he's drowning in your chest and he muffles out the words 'I just want to live here' that's a compliment right?
I WANT BLOOD. HERS. I WILL DYE A FABULOUS PAIR OF SUEDE PUMPS RED WITH HER BLOOD.
I'm pretty sure he sprained my clit...
i just read a article called "Booze, Drugs, and Bipolar Disorder"... i think someone is writing the memoirs of my life
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