Apparently last night I sat at the bar with an upside down sharpie lightning bolt on my forehead, yelling "It's Harry Potter's birthday! Let me be on the qudditch team!" And I kept calling the bartender Dobby. There are videos.
think im gonna go get a six pack before class and sit in the back of the room...
He told me I took off my shirt, asked for the latino thunder and jumped on him. I want to question this but it sounds too much like me.
Based on how hungover I feel today, it makes more sense that the bouncer didn't let me in to that bar.
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He was supposed to take me to a nice dinner, but istead all he did was get drunk and throw lit fireworks at me.
whiskey dick. though we did manage to break my closet door and flood the bathroom.
I wish pancakes were everywhere. Just pancakes. I want lilies at my wedding. No dress. Just priest. Just lilies.
My bruised ribs were so worth that win in beer pong
Wheres my essay?
You mean the vodka drenched shreds of paper taped all over the walls of the hallway?
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Let's go one conversation without mentioning cats or alcohol someday.
She told me her last name, which as you know is my #1 turn-off.
Gays age differently than straights. 29 is like 45 in gay years. Next year I'll be in adult diapers and applying for medicaid.
I don't know why I do this to myself his dick is a constant source of disappointment.
I'm slacking. We've been hooking up for months and I have yet to bang him while he's wearing the clown mask.
You're a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a redhead
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