Im listening to a jazz version of dick in a box.
my life has come down to walking through campus and wondering if every guy is the random i made out with saturday
You know me. Don't need roses, just dick and food.
Well, I want to see you regardless of whether or not you will lick whipped cream off my body.
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Just found out I called my mom at six in the morning to ask where the bong was. I win.
Just found my socks folded and in the back pocket of my jeans. Apparently drunk me refuses to lose shit after the panties incident over New Years.
This was like angel cum on the bread of life filled with the nectar of the gods
Judging by the progress I've made since I woke up (none) I'm thinking this hangover may keep me in bed.
Can we go to the gas station to get cigarettes before we get drunk. It's hard enough to say Marlboro sober.
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I just had to pick up my "let's drink and make bad choices" hat, my banana suit and beer pong table from work. Until just then I couldn't figure out why I got fired.
I accidentally sent my dad a very explicit Star Wars fanfiction and he replied with "That was great!"
They offered me pot brownies in 7 minutes flat. Imagine my horror when I had to be like, are those gluten free?
you gave me money for the cab and then walked home..
You know the rule about how you feel bad for getting food and not offering other people you're around, does that apply when you eat burger king at a strip club?
Sex in the backyard? Check.
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