I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
you sent me the whole alphabet, one letter a text. it took 15 minutes to read them all
The men handing out bibles on the quad are blatantly skipping me... am i that obvious
I don't know why girls would even talk to someone as drunk as I was.
i just got painted green i'm not about to leave for anything
Wait, how is it that I'm just getting ready to go out and you're already showing your penis to freshmen girls?
I just woke up in his house on his bathroom floor with an IV in my arm.
Every fourth of July I get sentimental when I think back to the one where we drove around baked off our asses crashing multiple cookouts listening to Team America's "America, Fuck Yea" on repeat. I miss us.
Well I almost walked away with an Irish guy's boarding pass and some south guy's dignity
I seem to have forgotten that I am wearing a one piece bathing suit under my clothes
He yearns for your heart.
He needs to stop being a pussy about it.
I don't need to marry the guy. I just need some filthy, shameful wish fulfillment sex and then live out the rest of my life on the bean farm.
Moral of the story - don't craft naked. Your nipples with thank me.
I'M IN A SPINNING VORTEX OF SELF-HATRED AND HORNINESS
How’s big weiner McGee?
I’m going to ask you one last time to call him Matt and he’s fine thank you very much
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