I'm someone's dream girl. I'm hungover in this guy's bed wearing ONLY a Brian Westbrook jersey. Not the same I was on a date with last night.
You know you're a nerd when you lose track of how many times you've gotten turned on watching Glee.
Like if Robert Downey Jr. and Kiefer Sutherland got together for a bender, that's how drunk I want us to be.
I am currently google image searching dick piercings, trying to see what I'm getting myself into.
So i just got guilted into doing a tequila shot by a group of guys chanting "USA!" at me.
Think of this as an opportunity. Like Jesus just opened up his closet, and inside is an endless supply of huge, beautiful cock.
You're in the clear; you and Andrew did not joint fingerbang that girl on the dance floor last night.
We just reached that moment of the night when you start making cookie quesadillas. Party on Wayne
Dad and I are shitfaced screaming at Canadians in Walmart. Life is good.
Queso dip and pictures of Daniel's penis. It's like the last days of Rome over here.
I hooked up with a guy dressed as Justin Timberlake, while dressed as Britney Spears. Fuck Jessica Biel, all my 90's dreams are coming true.
Update: I may or may not be in a cult
Update #2: I may or may not be the leader of said cult
I'm gonna go ahead and say I love our drinking habits but anytime we roundhouse a 750 of Schnapps on the way to a non competitive bowling league we might have problems
The guy that stalks me just looked out his window and saw me in his neighbor's hot tub. Get your shit ready the fraternity wars are starting.
A true gentleman never tells. But yes, I did indeed get laid last night
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