I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
the chair was smiling at me in sociology and i had to try not to burst out laughing.
only my mom would pack illegal paraphernalia in a care package..
Is "you left your socks here, please come get them" a good way of saying "come fuck me?"
I had 800 mg of ibuprofen 2 b vitamins and I'm pounding water like I'm trying to win a hazing
she visited to give me a bj between clients. Social work at its finest.
My hair is crimped, I am walking with a roadie, and my vibrator is in my purse. I feel sorry for tomorrow.
You know you're baked when you feel your throat closing up from an allergic reaction to the pecans in the cookie you're eating but you keep eating the damn cookie.
On a completely unrelated note I think I have carpal tunnel
Again, totally unrelated
$1 drinks and Playboy theme. I am never leaving this place
At a bar across from the city police station. I PROMISE I will do something great.
It's still 8am.
Yeah, but its wine drunk. WITH A DOCTOR. THAT MAKES MY MORNING CLASSY.
I'm over here willing to be the Yoda of fucking but I guess he just doesn't want to be a Jedi.
Of course that's what I'm wearing. I need to find a beard to mount and ride STAT.
i just want to cuddle, make out and maybe have a boob grabbed but no. someone has to have mono.
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