My grandpa is talking about laundry and he asked if i could run a "small hot load." Wow. I had to leave the room.
we didnt fuck last night. again. seriously, his place is like where dreams go to die.
i think i should save myself the $200 for a prom dress. i mean why bother. its just going to be covered in vodka/jizz/and puke by the end of the night.
the bouncer made me realize that puking in line does not get you in any faster
A. What the fuck are period panties? B. Don't ever wear them around me... or bears.
Ever had blood in your semen? I am guessing that's a problem.
It was like some kind of slut recycling operation. She gave me the shirt of the last guy she slept with in exchabge for mine so I didn't have to wear the same thing to work. She's been doing it for years
you know, this Evan Williams whiskey isn't so bad when it's watered down a bit and you're home by yourself on a Saturday listening to Snoop Dog alone in your apartment without pants or any plans for your future...
walking back to the dorm.. she is flashing evryone, demanding beads. we tried to stop her and now she just keeps yelling "Bourbon st bitchesss"... you get her tomorrow
sooo what's the appropriate music to listen to after you find out the dude you been fucking, is legit married with kids...what genre is that?
Well the "Blackout with your sack out" party turned out predictably.
He referred to our sex as being similar to "Two cheetahs cage fighting" and I have to agree.
This hangover is what we deserve after that level of debauchery.
Currently standing at the bus stop in just a pillowcase and its fucking snowing
You did what with his pubic hair?
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