the only thing i have to deal with now is the fact that i'm still wearing spandex shorts from last night
it's circumsized.
I think this conversation is over.
I kinda wish he had even a slight idea of the sex I'm planning for his departure. I'm literally studying for it.
It's a line of coke at 10 a.m. kind of Saturday. Don't be a pussy about life.
I just masturbated to the audio from my psych lecture . . . this screwing my prof fantasy is getting serious.
Was I shouting at a fire engine last Friday?
Complete silence. Background Willy Wonka music. An empty back of Lay's BBQ chips. These are the ingredients for an extreme acid trip.
Its summer. Time to get to the freshmen before the weight does.
HEY. That drawer full of booze in my dorm room also has aspirin and Tums in it. So don't tell me I don't care about health.
You tried to sit down... There was a distinct lack of couch.
Turns out floaties are a great thing after a couple bottles of vodka
Liquor doesn't fix sad, but it sure as hell lowers my standards for a rebound.
I think the best course of action at this point is to cut his balls off to get him to stop reproducing
I got stabbed with a couple of chip crumbs during sex Saturday. Further proof I need to stop eating snacks in bed
See I insist I'm not a groupie and then I say things like "will bang for a backstage pass".
Randomize
