I think we should boobie trap our beer this time using duct tape, rubber bands, seran wrap, and urine. Trust me I have a plan and it will work.
My mom just found some of our lube mixed in with my box of pots and pans. I hate moving home.
Please don't tell me I was shouting "I'm bleeding from my vagina" in front of my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend.
Swallowing. Like you said. Lions. Always.
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Not sure. We'll pass out on that bridge when we stumble to it.
We're sitting in his room writing songs about America. There's a verse about a dead dog. There's tequila everywhere.
Maybe walking up to the cops busting our party with a "Things go better with Coke" t-shirt on and asking for my extra license back that my little brother got busted with wasn't the best idea of the night.
And I was chasing apple pie moonshine (provided by cops) with bud light limeys. In a golf cart, wearing a tiara.
If you're not going to call the girls I bring around by name, at least don't call them by number. It's been cockblocking since girl #47. Dick.
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We were coming but I found wine on my way out the door.
I'd do them all but honestly I'm so high that I probably should have a chaperone.
my roommate woke me up with head. more awkward than it sounds.
Did I seriously answer the door for a home delivery of weed from you and your boss while wearing last night's 80s rockstar face paint?
I'm pretty sure I just won at life. I touched the bushy tail of a squirrel while he had his mouth full and was digging in a plant on campus. That is all.
JUST BECAUSE I ANSWER THE DOOR NAKED CARRYING A BOTTLE OF RUM DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN STARE NEIGHBORS.
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