There was a fist fight in my basement last night at four in the morning, in case you were wondering
She wanted to fuck you. You threw up on her. Congrats.
you thought you were invisible so you started narrating your actions.
I thought his dick was headless. then I pulled back the foreskin.
This guy at the party just introduced himself to me as "the guy who sat behind you on a plane last year"
I was still in a towel. We hadn't even started drinking yet and the champagne bottle dropped and exploded literally up into my vagina.
I held his ankles while he hung off the top bunk attempting to get my pillow that fell off.
Finding a keg in our kitchen would be like god personally high fiving each of us.
No, I did not fuck him for football tickets. I fucked him for tickets to the superbowl. I'm not that much of a slut.
we're like Indians of the 21st century. trading not for food and survival but personal gain and by trouble you mean getting daytime drunk and going to the roller ring then yes.
Please acknowledge the sock on the door. If not it will be rammed up your ass.
Passing out on a toilet is not classy no matter what you're wearing. Not even a pea coat.
Buying the inflatable beer pong table for the pool was one of the best investments I've ever made
He just peed in the cab. I repeat..IN.
honestly if there were pictures of last night i would be embarrassed.... im embarrassed without pictures
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