I'm sooo using this pickup line: "Baby, its not the 2.5 inches... Its the 200 pounds behind it"
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
you kept lifting my skirt up, yelling "PANTY PARTY". needless to say, you're at the top of my father's shit list right now.
So gin and wine won't be happening again
I'm drunk in class and I'm pretty sure the bible freak behind me is saying a prayer for me
Okay, thats embarrasing even by my standards and I've thrown up while wearing a viking hat. just a viking hat.
I'm not embarrassed about the lap dance. I'm embarrassed for the singing during.
the creek. my friends left me at a party next thing i know im in a breaststroke relay race with a bunch of randos in the dark
IT'S LINGERIE PURCHASED FROM A FLEA MARKET, THE ONLY THING IT'S GOING TO BE POSITIVE FOR IS A TEST FOR HIV
I tried to find the bar, ended up at a car dealership. Then the alarms went off.
Donald Trump and I would be so adorably orange together!
I just got winded making my bed. How do you think the workout plan is going?
I almost forgot to feel shameful, if that answers your question.
At least you didn't lose your virginity to chumbawumba
You cannot ask her to resend the picture of her genital tattoo to you just so you can show your room mate. it is time to end your relationship with the Captain.
Randomize
