i'm writing my speech about my 4th grade backstreet boy concert experience. that sums up how seriously i take my life.
your address is 607B right?
yeah why?
i need to tell the guy bringing over the flaming bag of dog shit where to put it
so he tried marking my clit with a sharpie so he could "find it again next time".
He gave me the "I've pictured you while jerkin off" look
He got drunk and insisted on licking my eyeball and called it a test of my trust in him.
I stuck a note to his door with my gum explaining why i couldn't spend the night. as i was walking away, he opened the door...i fell down and played dead. deffinitly didn't see me.
He's going to let me keep his bowl in my car. Does that make us Facebook official?
He walks in. We each have a tiki torch. We say, the tribe has spoken. We put his out and then stab him with it.
They took my balls.
I don't know what I'm more pleased with, the blowie last night or that fact that there's still 20 dollars in my wallet
I was afraid she wouldn't be able keep up but I woke up in a bathtub, she called me a pussy and made me pancakes.
And I wasn't CONVICTED of a felony, I just committed one
Ultimate fat girl moment: I promised him my mouth for the night if he bought me a funnel cake..
If you can't have hot, loud sex in a dorm for the last time ever, what can you do in this world?
Puked up breakfast after doing my first minze shot in a while, but that shot was to Trump losing the election, so it's all good.
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