Using his name makes it all too personal. I refuse to get attached to this one. This is all about ass. He doesn't get a name.
He just came into the room wearing nothing but a Speed Racer helmet. I think he just invented a fetish.
I'm finding that as the end of the quarter approaches, the list of things I refuse to do sober keeps getting longer.
He made me a "booty call of the year" award.
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He's stoned as shit, eating breakfast cereal and taking a dump. All while listening to dubstep. We may never understand him.
Going to the hospital for stitches on my balls. Mom walked in on me manscaping with an electric razor. Tell NOBODY.
Today I met the neighbor that shares my bedroom wall. When I pointed out my unit, he said, "Oh, that's you? Oh... that's you." I didn't think much of it until I was in bed tonight and I heard him clear his throat. He's. Heard. Everything.
And it looks like I sent you 4 failed attempts at the word "hey." Sorry about that.
I need someone to get my backpack from the bar before class tomorrow. I have to give my students their papers back.
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I tried carrying you from the bathroom to your bed and you begged me to bring the toilet too
i will see naked twins by the end of the night. that's all i know
Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you. And then you show up half naked at my door with a half gal of vodka, and I remember why.
I need you to send me a picture of your dick. I want to forward it to that girl and you and i both know you're more impressively sized
im already regretting the extreme lack of break up sex that took place