I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
its official now. im not pissing on secret service cars with a senators inside anymore.
where are you?
sonic
Good. I hungoveredly cleaned your room. This is what being married is going to be like. I pick the condoms up off the floor and you bring home the hot dogs.
I've gotten 23 condolence texts about Germany's defeat. I got 3 for our break-up. That's how much my friends don't like you.
the igloo is complete. bring your weed and the hat with the floppy ears
Uhh, there's a legit bruise on my boob.. Again how does he manage this
I think i lit a firework with a joint. happy birthday, america?
We can stop fighting if you send me a picture of your dick standing at full attention wearing a sock.
I'll wait.
It can also be a hat.
I just need you to stay far enough away that I can't smell your cologne. I completely forget that I fucking hate you as soon as I smell it.
My move is emasculating men with my superior intellect and it's not as charming when they can't see my huge rack.
Also, do you have any insight as to WHY I have a note saved from the 17th of June that reads *clears throat*, "you got that swanky blues libido"
I just did my taxes to sober up, I'm THAT hungover
The creeper at the bar just realized we have the same birthday and bought me four beers already. He walked off so I took his change and dashed, i'm bringing the case over now.
The gyno waiting room is so strange because the pregnant woman next to me is making a PowerPoint of her pregnant photo shoot with her husband and I’m sitting here trying to figure out from Instagram who I had sex with on Sunday lol
when some dude came up to you and said he didn't like your shirt you just looked at him and firmly asked if he really thought that you gave a fuck.
Randomize
