I smelled like jager and penis. The only cure was a pack of camels and plan b.
The way you explained my vagina was exactly the way I would of described my breakfast burrito.
somehow I got talked into dressing up like a hot dog, spinning around ten times, and shooting lay ups in front of thousands of students
she keeps a pillow, blanket, and a pack of saltines under the bathroom sink, for "rough nights".
He made fire alarm noises before throwing up all over the street.
you came home soaking wet, and when I asked where your umbrella was, you pulled it out of your bag and were so proud you kept it dry.
I was freaked out. No man over 50 is allowed to touch me. Ever. Unless you're Michael Bolton. Then please do.
I think he just made me trade sex for my cat.
That's why I don't chug things. Because when I was a freshman in college tequila came out my nose.
Slept with my first Irish dude before I even got off the plane. Dublin has no idea what I have in store for it.
The novelty of Nekkid Straight Roommate has faded.
I'm on the same pooping schedule as a professor I've never had. He now says what's up to me in the hallway
Acid king. Jackson puked a lot. Promoter booth. Angry security. No acid. Probably a good thing.
I dont even know what happened i just remember waking up with beer cans outlining my body...
Came up to an intersection and someone was blasting My Chemical Romance at like 9 AM. They're DEFINITELY having a good day
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