I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
The only pictures he has from one of the biggest football weekends is an album titled "I miss my dog" filled with tons of pictures of his dog and him. This relationship must end.
He wouldn't let me go down on him. He stopped me and told me he was a giver.
Worst case scenario: I have VD and will die. That's the worst that could happen. As long as I'm around long enough to see the winner of bachelor pad, I'm cool
You know how I know she's ugly? 97% of her profile pics are flowers or animals. And what do we know about pretty people and the Internet?
Did I mention I hooked up with another country star? I think I need some sort of trophy for each time, yah know? Or like a sash and I win a badge or patch for each person. Like a slutty Girl Scout.
Like what did he say to his host family? The girl I causally sleep with on the weekends is coming over?! And they thought "well lets feed her dinner"
So I just crossed my legs and I was like what is this lump on my leg? Oooh its my underwear from last time I wore these jeans...
She's going to be the first to die of too much illness. Not even super bad stuff like cancer but like for having a cold at the same time as a sore throat and chlamydia or something. Just too much diseases.
GUESS WHO STILL HAS BOTH NIPPLES!
If I had an Australian accent I'd be unstoppable. Teach me how you talk
He brought me flowers and then spanked me with a Doctor Who paddle. Pretty good night, as these things go.
Awwwwwww!
I feel like I smell like bad decisions
That's why my boobs are so big, they're full of secrets.
You laid on the floor and pet their rug. and then demanded Voss water.
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