I'm curled up in a ball on the floor of my office with the lights off. I hope no one notices. No more open bar. Woof.
I feel like I got hit by a truck made out of Jack Daniels.
i just looked at my contacts and realized i saved the pizza hut girl's number as "fckucin pizza" the other night.
Just taught my suite how to queef. I feel like i'm back in 9th grade!
And now we have yet another reason to never travel to Detroit
I could hear his roommate in the background imitating my sex sounds...
I really gotta be careful. My email inbox is equal parts notifications from instructors and this dude's dick. If I get drunk and reply to the wrong thing I might get kicked out of grad school.
It's fine...I've done worse things to better people.
And for some reason I just want to have sex with EVERYTHING
A man just poked my foot with his crutches while I'm shitting. Is that how the disabled gays ask for a glory hole blow jay?
Aside from having sex with a rando in a toga on george's couch i think taking plan b in the library is the most hashtag college thing i've ever done
My inner pteradactyl is also confused.
WHERE THE FUCK'S MY FUCKING RITALIN YOU FUCKING FASCIST?????
It began the way the best stories do—with some naïve jackasses in a place they had no business being at.
You know, you could always move. Lol somewhere without gators, water moccasins, and Marco Rubio.
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