Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
After last night's events, I googled "how to change your life direction." I found a really helpful ehow.com article.
you kept shouting how the only tree you would hump is an elm tree because they're under populated
But I was triple fisting doubles, that's bound to be a good time. Might have a broken collarbone though.
I pulled an all nighter. So hoped up on coffee and aderall. Pretty sure you could take my pulse through a snow jacket...
We crashed a rave, threw glitter all over Gay Dan and the bartender, broke a chandelier and called ourselves the Kings of Neon.
We don't really communicate like that.
Communicate like what?
Communicate like people who want to see each other when their genitals are inside their pants.
The real estate's complaint had the words "loud squealing at 2am" in it. Then I remembered that was me spoon feeding you guys old potato salad while you screeched like baby birds. Great night.
You've never really lived until you tell someone you have an STD over snap chat.
I need you to go into my room and get some pants then bring them and four band aids to Sam's apartment no questions
im not letting a little injury get in the way of my alcoholic/drug problems. we ARE getting turnt tonight.
It's been two whole weeks and I haven't missed a single class. I deserve 69 blunts.
And some neighbor just saw me naked and hunched over a bag of potato chips stuffing my face. Maybe clothes aren't a bad idea.
My mother is currently smoking weed with a dying bee so his last moments aren't miserable. And she wonders why I rescued a grasshopper missing a leg.
Also this morning I remembered seeing the stripper he threw up on later in the night. She was clothed though.
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