I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
any chance you can send me your legal ethics outline, in exchange for say, me buying you a lapdance the next time we go to the strip club?
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
when you tell me you got me a birthday present, I have to assume it will show up in a drug test.
We decided we needed a drinks fridge in our bathroom.
I just debated creating a mirror system so I could play Batman while in the bathroom. I think I need help.
I already knew that. But I also don't agree with stifling creativity.
I walked in her room to find her rubbing lotion on her face high as fuck.
A prostitute stole us beer at 3 am
Check snapchat. Selfie game still on point mid vomit.
When you make me feel sane and well-adjusted, it is time to reevaluate your night out habits. Just sayin'.
The girl in line in front of me at the grocery store is buying wine, m&m minis, a toothbrush, and condoms. Is it inappropriate to high-five her?
I just drunk texted the Italian guy and now I’m flooded with Shane. Uh, shame, not Shane. He sounds nice, though.
I can show you the world. Shining, splimbering vaginaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
You threw up everything but your ovaries.
Randomize
