I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
When you get home we need to compare our schedules and set up masturbation slots. I'm scares of you walking in on me. Again.
i'm half naked talking to a cat. you don't have to justify your life to me.
Just spiked the bong with a ludens cough drop with hopes it soothes my throat after i rip it.
I beat my mom's friend's boyfriend in a vodka chugging competition. Our generation FTW.
I'm at a new rock bottom. Malibu on ice at work because it's the only thing they've got and no mixers.
I think he's an actor
That's not a good enough reason to wear guy-liner
I've turned into a small time drug dealer, now who's the real MVP.
I think my liver has finally had enough and is going all Ashley-Judd-in-a-Lifetime-movie on me.
His dog ate the vibrator. The WHOLE vibrator. We spend the morning after trying to make it vomit up the battery. Why does this always happen to me?
Good news y'all just straight up snorted 2 adderall and I'm not a real being on this plane of existence anymore and I'm ready for finals
Hey how're your balls?
Don't ever let me helicopter again.
Can’t fucking wait for Tuesday night. Have another situation that popped up. I swear my life is like a cross between a soap opera and a porno
Did you clean my apartment?
I thought it was a dream, I'm sorry
Please stay more often
You were so drunk Last night you asked for your glasses so you could read the directions on a band aid
Randomize
