It's not a real calculator it's a math calculator
The bartender from Thursday remembered me... And gave me a FLAMING BUCKET of alcohol.
Where the hell is he. I called him crying for weed and sex you would think that would signal some urgency.
When we were fucking he said and I quote "we're like a sex fajita"
Does this mean I don't have to apologize for launching about 20 bead necklaces at you from the balcony?
If I am telling you about the details of the shits I take I probably don't want to have sex with you. Probably.
Finding an empty bathroom to shit on campus is like the quest for the fucking Holy Grail. Except with more stench and humiliation.
Crowning achievement. I bought ranch dressing and emergency contraception.
That moment during finals day when you either convince your teacher to let you out of the room or you shit you pants.
You wouldnt listen to us when we told you there was no place that was selling girlscout cookies at 4:30am...
You are now at the point where people no longer question whether or not you might be on drugs. They now know for certain that you are
sober me needs to have more faith in drunk me.
That Spanish guy who looks like Ben Affleck from that club we went to 3 weeks ago is still texting me.. He clearly doesn't remember what I look like.
I called to inform you I may or may not be getting laid tonight ...
The best walk of shames are on the highway
Randomize
