Soap is not a condiment
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Who is John, and why is his named carved into our toilet?
I'll show rhose boucners: You don't let me in, I poop on your pool.
idk if ive ever seen a picture of him on facebook with his pants on
i have a new found respect for you. the amount of people you must have cockblocked last night is amazing
Right now, my father is sitting on the couch, totally smashed, crying, eating pringles, and watching the credits of Transformers 2. Love him.
I blacked out the second time 3am rolled around. My brain was taking a beating trying to do that math.
Going out so taking the 2nd 1/2 of beer w/ me ont'tube in a Pringles tube. I give money to people on the street that have more self respect.
we started the countdown to drunken sledding this weekend.
Sean getting laid is an anomaly, Sean banging the hottest single girl at the wedding is a fucking unicorn being ridden by a leprechaun walking through mordor.
i feel like doing his laundry was not included in the job description when we became fuck buddies.
you never know when your going to find a surprise from me in your bed...it keeps you on your toes.
Just shaved my balls on a moving train. By far the most dangerous stunt I've ever pulled
When we were finished she immediately got up, cut a star out of a piece of paper, colored it gold, taped it to my chest and deemed me the Sheriff of Sex.
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