Who would have guessed that ordering a vodka lemonade at Roscoe's was code for I want a hand job
who the fuck tagged pancake nipples on my profile picture?
Where are you and who are these girls passed out on the floor?
and why are they spooning a flamingo?
they traded weed for a spot on our floor. be nice.
So I'm thinking about sending him some "sorry I almost peed on your computer" cookies. Thoughts?
Imma do me. And by that, I mean I'm going to walk across campus still drunk at 9am on a Tuesday.
Hey my results were negative. Your chlamydia train stops here. Happy hunting!
According to you, you were with your "Eskimo bro for life" last night.
We had sex on roll out bean bag chair, and then proceeded to sleep with a blanket with dolphins on it. Happy birthday to me.
Finally liberated my Star Trek DVD from my booty call's house. Captain Kirk would be so proud.
He was the highest I've ever seen. Almost had him convinced there are only three colors in the rainbow...
I'm batshit crazy. I don't know how you guys keep forgetting that
Single lady's Saturday night: eat doritos, masturbate, eat more doritos. Do shot of Jager. Repeat until desired result is achieved.
Science requires me to take a picture of your nipples.
As a BFF it is your duty to answer when I drunk call you at 3 in the morning because I couldn't find a knife to cut that cake. I finally found one, fell asleep with it and the cake in bed. K thanks bye.
You're moving up the public shitting ladder
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