As it turns out, strippers don't accept checks.
I had five suicidal voicemails from him when I woke up this morning. They all started and ended with "DON'T FUCK MY ROOMMATES".
It was only one, it doesn't count.
I want Paula Dean to narrate shark week next year
I almost puked on my graduation application. perfect.
4pm on a Sunday....roomate fucking like a wildabeast while I have a organic chemistry study group in my kitchen.
I wonder what my nutrition professor is going to think when I have to put 21 keystone lights, a bottle of merlot wine, and 5 rum and cokes and 4 shots of tequila on my dietary analysis
some gay kid said he wanted to blow him because "his eyebrows told a story"
Do you think I threw out my left shoulder during the keg stand or the stripper pole? It's medically relevant my chiropractor wants to know.
True bitches know their best friends favorite Boones Farm flavor.
I feel like I should be doing a victory lap around my house to the rocky music, or zapping and smiting people with my mystic wizard powers
He ate shrooms at 9:30, said, "see you later," and left. I am alone on New Years.
The whorange rubbed off. His white shirt was so gross at the end of the night I told him to frame it.
I know I've never told you this before.. but Gyro sauce makes everything okay.
We broke up. My life is now 7 inches less.
You'll be pleased to know I just had an elaborate day dream about your penis. you were there too.
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