I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
john hughes is dead. crushing any and all dreams of me ever being in an 80's john hughes film. bummer.
She was trying to fuck the exchange student from France. His English is really bad and the music was loud so she just pointed to a beer bottle and then her vagina.
As if me making pizza in a skillet wasn't enough proof that I was in no state to be cooking, this burn blister on my hand is
Maybe I don't remember every single thing... I think there's a hi lighter treasure map drawn on my arm...
I just found it. I hope it leads to food.
ALERT: Turns out when I'm drunk I turn into a clepto. I just found keys, a ketchup bottle, and sweatshirt in my backpack that don't belong to me. If yours, come collect from me. I'm still drunk in the back of biology lecture.
I kind of want to throw a lot of things at him. Mostly blunt, heavy objects.
So what's going on?
We hit boys town to get stupid. I mean invading Iraq stupid.
I was so hungover at work I had my shirt on backwards. I had no idea how I managed to get through today puke free.
His parents came home, and now I'm hiding in a closet; awaiting death at dawn.
You are always hiding in a closet though??
Him showing up yesterday was like a giant ego stroke for my vagina.
I took the beard trimmer to my balls this morning.\nMuch blood. Much blood from my scrotum.
He motorboated me, gave me a business card congratulating me on my motorboat, then disappeared into the night.
Find him and marry him.
I'm like a sensual ninja. You turn your head for a second and.... BOOM I'm naked. It's like a naughty magic trick.
Ah Christ I think I've reached the single life mentality 100%. I just inquired a photographer about a photo shoot with my dog.
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