I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
tiger just fucked it up for all of us...she grabbed my phone this morning and started asking questions.
I wonder what gingers are like in bed...as awkward as their hair or just as unique as it...?
I am standing at the lion i publicly humped last night. i am mortified.
The chlamydia really affected his face.
Whatever it's Canadian jail, it's not like Guatemala or something. It'll be nice and cushy and they'll probably throw him a big bday party with all his friends and strippers
I am not being the messenger for your booty call.
I spoon fed you cheerios when you were black out drunk. You owe me one.
He's doing his thing where I don't know if he's alive until three in the afternoon so idk
Still stoned. I like your bong. It can stay. No others, though.
You aren't truly friends with someone until you play drinking games via text at 8:30 in the morning.
I got asked to "be the filling in a man sandwich." You don't get to pick the club again. EVER.
Nobody likes ball hair. Not even gay dudes
It's not Christmas until you get a photo from an ex wearing a Santa hat and red boxers... And then you just respond with, "nope."
He kept saying "Welcome to Indianapolis" over and over while we were having sex...because that's his hometown. I was scared and confused... I didn't know if I should have said thank you or what.
You smoked too much and passed out, didn't you?
You know me so well.
Randomize
