I'm twenty-five. I'm too old to be watching my friend throw up in Chipolte Parking lot.
I'm sad your dog died... Her name is my stripper name.
the whole story woulnd't be so depressing if i had made out with ANYONE but the piano player.
Nothing like an old fashioned, wine fueled, anxiety-cry in the shower to start off finals week.
It's 6 a.m. ... what the hell.
If the world would stop letting me feel invincible I would probably stop doing this shit.
My living room is scattered with glow sticks wrappers, sparklers, face paint & beer cans?
It's not as cool looking when the drugs wear off, is it?
Do you remember some guy walking around the club saying "boner patrol" and smacking people in the dick?
Yeah, that was you
If you're not peeing in public bi-monthly, you're not really living.
THE MAINTENANCE MEN WERE DOWN STAIRS AND I THOUGHT THEY WERE MY MOM. I'VE BEEN YELLING 'GRILL ME A CHEESE' AT THEM FOR HALF AN HOUR
I've been wearing the same clothes for 3 days and they're covered in franzia
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.
this case of pbr just wont end. i keep finding more.
I just want a relatively mentally stable guy with tattoos and facial hair that loves Captain America as much as I do and will fuck me the way I deserve to be fucked, is that too much to ask for?
UPDATE: THERE IS ASS EATING. I REPEAT: THERE IS ASS EATING.
Life update: This fucking MacBook repair guy called me over last night for a booty call and he didn’t have a condom OR a bed
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