I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
maybe all of them together would equal one normal sized dick.
I think the universe is against us being together. Or maybe it's just god's way of telling me there is a bigger dick out there for me.
my goal is to not remember how i make a living by 9pm saturday night
I forgot my id and a man called soup is buying me vodka.
It's so hard to find a shirt to wear out that is easily taken off, cut off my paramedics, but says "I'm a grown, respected woman"
your love of good penises attached to ugly faces is disgusting and slightly disturbing.
I dunno. We kind of want to have a hippie communing with nature type break. But because we're such alcoholics I feel like we'll just be wasted the whole time in addition to hugging trees and shit
I wonder if you're allowed to smoke pot at Denver bronco games now...
i don't remember much about your party last weekend but i remember you being so drunk you were crying in your driveway about pickles at four am
So stoned that I pressed the unlock button on my car keys to walk into my bedroom...
I think I've done enough damage with my vagina as of late, thank you
"Are we not going to talk about how you got so drunk that you swallowed someone's pet gold fish, whole?"
A legendary roster of degenerates has been assembled.
Are you rolling a joint while doing homework?
No, I am rolling a joint with my homework.
Randomize
