I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
First date. He's wearing a tuxedo shirt and keeps asking me about our future children. Escape plan #3 is now in action...
Counseling BFF to break up with her BF. We will get that 3-way
We are lost and the only things we have are peanut brittle, cookies and vodka. I think we'll make it.
New rule: gentleman callers are required to bring me gifts of beer when coming over to court you. Tell the monster jam dudes so they know.
you are not my drinking buddy, you are my drinking enemy.
Exactly. Some of us want to get married. And some of us want to wear sombreros and do cocaine. To each their own.
Cat. Why do you sit on things I need to use.
Because it is cat.
You should not be allowed to go away on the weekends I plan on getting drunk on. I need someone to stop me from punching this guy in the face. It's simple room mate etiquette.
If I hid at school to avoid the cops, is it fleeing and evading or just being a good student?
did you just say you're too stoned to fool around? okay we're over.
His face matches his life choices. Both are train wrecks.
We kept having to tell you that you couldn't just sit wherever you wanted at Walmart. Sitting in the middle of the raw meat section was unacceptable and children were staring at you.
I wanna suck that fisherman's dick.
If you’re wondering why the bong is outside the garage door just know I was being environmentally efficient by not using the freezer to chill my shit
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