If you text me again I will gut all of your stuffed animals.
forecast for tonight is alcohol, low standards and poor decisions.
His friends call him "Gasm".... Im going for it.
NBC reported that a group almost has enough signatures to submit pole dancing as an Olympic sport in 2016...
God I fucking love America.
17 year olds will be the death of me.
they duct taped my keg cup to my hand with my sister's phone number on it. I should be ok tonight.
Just pure bliss will emerge from Charles, my tranny bong.
I succsesfully kept my nipples in my dress all night. Even when I got in a fight. I was made for the bar.
Another memory: We offered for a stranger to live in our house under the condition that he took the garbage out because it's a 'blue' job.
We are the best.
Ps. We need to take the garbage out.
Get the cougar, get the cougar, get the cougar. Act like an injured baby deer. She will either eat you alive or nurse you back to health either way its still sex.
They don't even know who I am but they just woke me up with maracas and invited my boobs to a kegger
Holy shit, add "successfully got stoned secretly at a party where a cop was" to my list of accomplishments.
What's the best way to tell someone that I accidentally wound up in a gay harem?
Why the fuck is there raw bacon in my bra. I don't even have a stove.
Thinking and hoping ice cream is the answer to my problems
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