apparently my drunken alterego is a lazyeyed bisexual.
I've spent too much of my life staring at my bberry and counting to 5 to see if it blinks
Last night was epic. Hooked up with Emma Watson, found twenty bucks, and then passed out on my floor.
No you didn't. You drank unbelievable amounts of 151, passed out in someone else's bathroom, and we carried you back to your floor. Nice dreams though.
I thought the one perk of the low caliber of men I've slept with thus far in my college career is that I would never run into them in the library. I've been here for ten minutes and we're on number three.
On the back of that comment, I've formed a theory that as a result of my brainwashing your drunk self actually believes that beards are your calling.
I was informed that last night we held hands while puking on the curb outside the bar.
We just have a real special relationship.
I didnt think the feeling of accomplishment for fucking brothers would be this great.
I forgot how easy it is to have sex in public when you're wearing a dress. Thank you global warming.
it still weirds me out that Robin Thicke is Alan Thicke's son
I hate to stick you with the friend but I did all the work.
I don't want to sleep with anyone. I just want a burrito
No matter how long you've been away, there's nothing quite like pooping at your parents' house
Nice classy night out before we roll our faces off
I love how we can bond over the fact that we're the only ones who think the guy I drunk hooked up with looks like Voldemort
Note to self: NEVER have sex with anyone who is experiencing explosive diarrhea.
I've never been so happy to be celibate.
Randomize
