Ooooh. That's not a mole. Uncomfortable.
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Im going to buy a thermometer. If its above 104 im going to the hospital if its under 104 im going to the bar
Midnight run for medical supplies ended several hours later with a lapdance to the Braveheart soundtrack.
Its only fair we share our golden vaginas with the world. It would be selfish if we didn't.
College is the ONLY place where you can pass off morning sickness as being hungover. I'm currently pouring beer in a spray bottle so I can spray it on myself and smell drunk.
Saturday evening, however, will be my vodka and bubble wrap extravaganza.
I make one hell of a fire on Ambien. Other life choices not so much. But fire. Fire I can do.
It's gay softball weekend. Lots of hot gay strangers to go home with.
I am the girl who goes to bed with her make-up on so that she doesn't have to fully redo it in the morning. I am obviously not ready to be a mother.
How does that even work?
Wearing rip off pants to a booty call last night was one of my most brilliant ideas ever.
I can't sleep. My mind keeps asking "turn down for what?" but it won't accept any of my answers.
Come over. I have beer, your weird ass vegan pizza, and a raging hard on.
Marry me.
Considering we're about to fuck, I really need your girlfriend to stop liking all my Facebook posts.
The amount of illegal things I've done this weekend is astounding.
Randomize
