Yours is on the dinner table...mine is in my underwear drawer.
sorry if i was weird last night, had weird deja vu that we had done that before, i mean with the peanut butter.
we had.
well that explains the rash. i dont think i should see you again.
Ways to know you did something wrong: you sugar-coated it for your therapist.
Fuck him. I'll set him on fire for you. Then we'll see how good of a firefighter he is.
Slutapocalypse this thursday. Invite every freshieee you hooked up with this semester to my house. Think of it like a meet n greet for them and battle of the sluts for us.
My friend and I just coined a new term. OBJ. The obligatory blow job. You totally know what I'm talking about.
Like if he goes down on you first, or you just don't want to bone him yet. OBJ.
the whole "pretend to be sober/pull it together for my family" thing really blew up in my face when i threw up into my pillowcase.
I totally just potholed and almost crashed while trying to lick salsa off my boob.
Dude, the chicks a procotolgy intern. Don't cheat on her. She knows where it hurts the most.
She's gone now. Left with the wind like a majestic leaf that just rides the invisible current to locations unknown. And dude, her friends were really hot.
In local news, attempts to hide phone from extremely drunk self prove unsuccessful for Dallas woman.
I was unconscious Saturday for like 6 hours after I passed out on the sidewalks of our nation's capital. Thank you America, for bottomless brunch.
But seriously. What possible excuse could I come up with to ditch my parents on Christmas to go fuck him?
Captain Morgan does not know self control. Nor does he teach it.
We've been here for 9 days, so of course I am high at my in-laws' house.
Randomize
