I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
My dog ate my bag of weed. Thats not the easiest call to the vet to make.
he legitimately fell asleep standing up at the club. everyone was impressed
Moral of the story: don't get pregs or your chances in the beer league are over
Pretty sure I blacked out the last 48 hours, the last thing I remember is the 4 pm bar crawl on Thurs
Can you believe they're going to let me be a doctor?
You working tonight?
Keg. Hottub. Wearimnh a 8th graders bikini. Mess
Saturday at 4 is jello wrestling sponsored by the senior class council. That's why my school is awesome. Boom.
With the amount of g's you put on going I'm gonna guess you're drinking alone again
to instagram or to not instagram the picture i took of when i shit in the urinal
Well I woke up and my arm was bleeding. And my blood is on the wall in the hallway.
Umm
No idea. I blame fireball.
Valid.
Well at least I still have a burrito in my pocket.
He's interpretive dancing to Crazy by Britney Spears and expressing his feelings for either me or the guy next to us
I got caught throwing up in my daughters princess potty... On the bright side it played a rewarding tune afterwards.
one nice thing about being home: no walks of shame, just drives of shame
it's my fake id's birthday. i'm wearing a hat, and i have a beard. i'm untouchable. TO THE BARS!
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