i need gas-x and some way to take back every single thing i did last night.
Kanye's agent is the only person whose job sucks worse than mine.
That adds atleast one bjs worth of awkward sexual tension between us.
she broke up with me using backstreet boy lyrics
you deserved it if you knew it was backstreet boys.
it's like i need an invisible sign across my boobs that says "DOESN'T HAVE DADDY ISSUES" that only old men can see
you're being stingy. if you didnt want people to have sex on your couch, you shouldve specifically said so.
Oh. And what's the twitter protocol for following the guy you blew behind a shed?
Monday: I just need a drink Tuesday: OMG no more this week! Wednesday: oh shit how'd I get drunk Thursday: I'm glad you've stopped the pretenses
I wasn't trying to be rude when I hurriedly walked past you, but I can not put in to words exactly how bad I had to shit.
I found your Halloween costume. I think you shit yourself last night
we all thought you were asleep. he found you an hour later sitting outside in the snow lighting a bowl, singing the CatDog theme song, and hugging a box a Franzia.
At the ER. John needs stiches. Fuck pub trivia nights.
I just saw a kid on iowa campus story that looked like the guy i made out with on spring break.
You sat outside petting a picture of your cat for hours... not even the real thing... just a picture.
It's taking all of my will power not to chug this margarita. This must be the life of an adult...
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