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can't come. weird drunk guy passed out on couch. long story, tell u later.
wtf. wake him up, call him a cab, get over here!
i just want to make sure he doesn't die. or rob me. plus it's facinating, he's faceplant on the arm of my sofa.
Getting food. Want anything?
Vagina. Double meat no buns. I have the secret sauce
she looks like stephen colbert with that blond wig he was wearing last night.
The remote chance that I may get a blowjob is about the only reason I have a shower every day.
Those motion detector trash cans don't work fast enough to catch puke.
Then we all started singing, "Our house, in the middle of the street. Our house, fucks a lot of freshman meat". It was magical.
My patience ran out after you started clapping at the strippers everytime they took off a piece of clothing.
Im not moving so it's going to have to be a 3 some.
I'm not embarrassed about the lap dance. I'm embarrassed for the singing during.
totally worth getting kicked out for trying to throw my drink on lindsay lohans ankle bracelet.
Hold on, I gotta pump breast milk for the white russians.
Like lay upon bear skin rugs, drink brandy and reminisce of the yesteryear's before a majestic fire place? Because those are my plans.
Just saw the german running around on campus. Thought of his small penis.
As you should.
While all the other girls were trying to out skut the next, Cameron was just doing cartwheels around the bar. I think she's the only one who got laid.
I made it with a guy dressed as Mitt Romney. I told him "you can't have my vote, but you can have my body"
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