Well maybe next time you won't tell me to do whatever I want.
My RA just tried to write me up for having sex too loudly during quiet hours.
you know that saying beer then liquer makes you sicker, it should be beer then pickles makes you throw up alot, everywhere.
My RA just gave me tips on how to have discreet shower sex. Were we that loud?
Just so you know, coffee creamer+water does not = milk.
I don't think I can handle being a slut. There is a lot more emotional stress that I never realized.
I searched the house and found a small bottle of sherry which is probably as old as I am, has prob gone off and tastes like shit. I don't care any more. It has come to this.
I just wanted to give you a heads up. There's a crab in the kitchen. He doesn't have a name yet. We are just calling him crab for now. Oh! and we have memosas!
Gas station champagne. And before you say anything I'll have you know it's imported. From California. So get fucked.
My New Years Resolution is to get everyone to start talking like a 40 year old douchebag. From now on, you will only refer to me as Chief.
My genitals don't want beer. They want to not feel like they wandered into a hornet's nest.
It'll be a pair of asscheeks that light up when they're summoned.
I also need to get my life together but instead I just eat spoonfuls of Nutella. We can't win 'em all
he asked me if i wanted to hook up & my answer was 'why not'. he came in thirty seconds and the condom broke. it's the love story of the century
I went to Christian school in the 90s. I can finger blast anything, but dignity.
Randomize
