I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I'm at the house listening to vengaboys alone. Please come home.
Let's just cut to the chase. I'm not interested in anything romantic but I aAM interested in Tom Petty and maybe getting high and fucking you again for old times sake.
She threw up in the hot tub how's your night
I didn't think it was possible, but that girl next door is even louder when drunk.
He just referred to his foreskin as a snuggie. Help.
in my drunkeness I still was able to plan for the morning. I duck taped my keys, a water bottle full of mimosa and my cell phone to the front door.
He got violent drunk so we have to untie him in the morning. He's in your basement and you're out of electrical tape. Don't forget because I will.
So hung over, I told one of the candidates she's hired if we can turn the lights off and take a nap instead of doing her interview. I feel like she has potential.
She was mad I came so fast. I was like, It's the Olympics! Fastest time wins! We can train you in the offseason.
I watched you down those shots like a lion cub watching its mother rip apart a gazelle
The sex definitely would have been a perk. But not sitting in a ditch was what I was going for...
I dunno. The drunker I get, the easier econ gets. I may be onto something here.
I have to close one eye, because I don't wanna see two movies, I only want to see one.
You got up in the middle of a sentence, puked, came out and poured another glass of wine and continued your story.
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