i just spent the last half hour thinking about my totally irrational and intense hatred of wedge flip flops.
Just so you know, the bottle of red gatorade is NOT GATORADE. It is definitely someone's puke. I hope nobody else makes the same mistake I did.
so i walked in, looked up the stairs and all i saw was smashed pumpkin, tube socks, and marinara sauce
Theres dried jager, barbecue sauce and frie remnants all over my front seat.
we fucked the fort apart but we'll rebuild it after we get some drinks.
She tried to leave the threesome and I heard you yell "Hey! We don't quit at halftime!"
I've been laying here all day wondering why my back hurt so bad and then I remembered last night.... When you pushed me through that glass table.
I bet my lungs hate me more than my liver
That's a hard toss up
Agreed then we'll really be on our A game tomorrow. And by A I mean alcohol.
So like, boobs.
are you really going to start every conversation like that?
This is what happens when you leave: I get all vulnerable and I make out with the cowboy to shut him up about Jesus.
I found you laying in a field of grass near the trail I jog on in the morning like a drunken Bambi.
I just found one of your beard hairs in my oatmeal.
mid-october of freshman year. goals have shifted from "no more guys on my floor" to "all the guys on my floor."
Not bad. Ran into Carlo. He shared a story about a sailor who got gonorrhea in his eye. It made me feel better about myself.
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