She's got an ass you could write the declaration of independence on in one line. Takes up three bar stools.
I told her the white crusty stuff on my boxers was frosting not cum. She seemed MORE grossed out then
I'm like a wolly mammoth down there. what do I tell him?
like in an apt above a crackhead. A LEGIT CRACKHEAD. he woke me up every morning this week asking me if I wanted to buy a mini fridge and some CDs. at 5 am. EVERY DAY.
No he exists. Who else tells me no matter how drunk I am to pull out. He's watching over me so my bastard doesn't get created.
It's kind of like, standing in a garage and pretending you're a car. Except you're naked.
Just as I was applauding myself for the best wing man award, I realized we are going to have to burn our futon.
"The cab driver felt bad for us so he stopped to buy us chocolates. That counts as a valentine!"
I have 7 papers to write and I already bought gas station ice cream in my pjs and questioned whether or not a beer float was a thing.
Who doesnt want to be Yoda? I mean seriously, how sweet would that be? Live to 400, not give a shit about love and all that, know fucking mind tricks and smoke awesome swamp weed. I'm down.
So i walked around campus drunk and alone last night eating pizza and a lunchable from 7-11. Sat by the flag pole and drank an entire liter of water, took off my shoes to prance around in the fountain, then stepped in dog shit on the way home...barefoot.
Your life is quite full of dick lately.
It really is!
I'm gonna watch porn and nap. I think I really have this Valentine's Day thing down
I mean, it's a romantic picture of pubes if I've ever seen one
You're emotionally mature, right? I said you were.
I have at least four things in my line of sight that have Kermit the Frog on them in my dorm. Does that answer your question?
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