I remember why I come home for the holidays. Sam Adams is the cheapest beer in the fridge
just threw up in the bushes outside my lecture hall. sometimes i hate the freedom college gives you.
we may have ended up at a gay bar on accident. we're gonna work this to get free drinks.
Drunk off five beers on a Tuesday. I'm not sure which part of that statement is more sad
I can't really talk right now. I'm getting on a plane to Oregon to go give a guy a bj. I'll see you in three days.
Woke up with two cats staring at me. One covered in puke thats giving me a look that says it might be my fault. Where am I? Come get me.
This summer isn't about fun. We have to train our livers to survive the next four years.
Bored at work. googling vodka waffles.
For sure. I'm slow cooking a 6 pound pork shoulder wrapped in bacon. If that doesn't scream "guys I'm going into culinary arts lets get drunk" I'm not sure what does.
He came on my pillow pet. That's unacceptable. I hate boys.
His dick was so bent it was like fucking captain hook's hand for 2 hours
How is it??
I'm drinking Gatorade out of a champagne flute.
Really though. It's your life, live it how you want
And I do mostly. Which is why I'm now drunk in my room writing erotica
THERES A BEAVER CHASING ME, ANGRY BEAVERS IS FUCKING REAL DUDE
Dude, I just feel great. I love life so much and I love you. Love. Love. So much love.
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