Probably should plan this out. Step one: grow stache. Two: get trenchcoat. Three: Kidnap Selena Gomez.
I had better be fucking involved with step four.
So we tried to 69 with him on top. NEVER TRY IT. His balls were in my eyes and it was terrifying.
I guess you don't remember pouring tequila in the dog bowl and slurping it.
Wasn't a date. In exchange for artichoke dip I received a bj. And sex. It was a transaction.
this is not real life
it never is. after midnight never counts.
She just admitted to me that she was a pinecone.
When I said 'i love my boyfriend' I didn't mean 'send me a picture of your penis'.
Remember that night I drank a bunch of vodka, pounded your Jameson because 'you were a pussy', punched you in the face and ran off as fast as my high heels could go? It was just my Russian and Irish sides fighting for genetic dominance
So I come back home and a huge flock of enormous vultures are on my roof
They're waiting for you to die
Everyone here knows me as 'that chick who will most likely steal your girlfriend'. My 99% success rate tells me this name is acceptable.
No, I found out he was gay when I walked in on him blowing the guy from the dorm room next to ours.
Drink. Fuck. Waffle House. Repeat.
We need to know if his feet match his cock.
We did blind alcohol taste testing and she got 10 of 10. I'm in love.
I wanna print it out and hang it on the fridge like parents do with good report cards.
oh the joys of a picture of a negative pregnancy test
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