I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Remeber, hes got nothing better to offer you than drunk words and hairy balls.
I need to write the inventor of adderall a thank you note stapled to a copy of my degree
She told me to stay away from him cause apparently he fucks anything that walks. clearly i responded with..."i walk"
i am positive it's ok to drink. it's just pieces of the plastic knife i forgot was in the blender.
...and all my boxers are outside in the snow because????
We made out for three hours. Then she said she didn't sleep with redheads and left the party. So yes, I'm still drinking.
I feel like a fucking princess. Like an heiress of a kingdom of drugs.
There's a drag queen here that reminds me strongly of you. You should try crossdressing.
It's been a long time since I got "Talk about Glen's enormous penis" drunk
Just found my socks folded and in the back pocket of my jeans. Apparently drunk me refuses to lose shit after the panties incident over New Years.
The water at the venue tasted HORRIBLE so I just kept drinking booze. It was like the medievals.
I just want to pat him on the head, bake him some cookies, and reassure him that, someday, he will get laid.
Sooo, did you delete me cause I said I wouldn't babysit you while you did shrooms? You're a grown man.
Apparently I gave a guy a hand job on the dance floor. ON THE DANCE FLOOR.
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