The spoon I was using to ice my hickey just fell out of my purse while i was paying at the liquor store. I look like an alcoholic with a meth problem.
I just went through her cupboards. Eye patch and sword. nowhere near each other. different shelfs.
If it wasnt for meatballs I would have fucking killed myself already.
i effin hate jeff goldbloom.
but i totally would still bang him
you were convinced campus grass and foliage would give you your daily serving of vegetables to balance out the amount of alcohol you drank.
he pushed my hair back because he said it made me look like kelly kapowski and he told me to call him zach
About me waking up with a tatto of a hamster with a top hat ?
hey.....beach week happens
Somehow me showing up to/breaking into her house only to find I was a week early for the party became a night of weed cookies and sex.
the only way to explain how i feel is someone rolled me down a big fucking hill and then a dog came a took a huge ruthless shit in my mouth at the bottom
I wonder what acid is like for a blind person... Can we find this out?
This essay is so getting done. I am spurred on by thoughts of test-driving your newly shaven face by sitting on it as soon as humanly possible.
I'm just gonna use that pot butter as dip for chips. That's fat, American AND stoner!
And then she sprinted three blocks through live traffic towards McDonalds screaming "THE GOLDEN ARCHES ARE CALLING ME"
You don't understand. On her lunch break she sits on the roof, stares into the sky, and chain smokes. I can't get on her level. She is made up of java monsters with whiskey and a voice that sounds like sex.
You need to stop crushing on your boss or fuck her.
He held my hair back for me while i vomited in my driveway last night and i repayed him by farting mid-heave.
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