I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Also I just saw on facebook your sister is taking pole dancing lessons. Just a heads up.
alcohol. turning childhood friends into awkward hookups since the dawn of civilization.
I decided to have standards now that i've graduated. No guys without a bed frame.
He's got serious oatmeal ass...take a moment and admire how google voice to text was able to detect oatmeal ass....twice
Wasn't a date. In exchange for artichoke dip I received a bj. And sex. It was a transaction.
I just won't go as hard tonight. Four dollar ladies night drink or drown is not a good idea for me. I like to get my money's worth.
Plans for halloween need to outrank Caesar, Cleopatra and Mark Antony's threesome...just saying
I pulled my bra outta my purse. Covered in honey mustard. I still lack an explanation.
Shit. I'm running the whole hotel right now. The front desk girl had to run home because she left her vibrator on the counter and her brother, mom, and grandmother surprised her and are showing up to her place before she gets off work. This will end badly no matter what.
I am disappointed by everyone's lack of ability to dance on a stripper pole:(
I just saw my 7th grade teacher at the club. We had a pretty good talk over drinks. Turns out we both like dancing on tables.
Netflix, eggnog, and bed? Maybe some hand stuff?
I made my uber driver take a pit stop between clubs so we could restock on Xanax. #priorities
I think I came out of my blackout as I was ordering wine from the private wedding reception.
Randomize
