So when we opened his headboard we found a bottle of crisco sitting on top of his porn magazines.
I guess we all know what he was cookin.
The guy I was getting with last night took off his purity ring mid-sex and threw it across the room.
Well I woke up with a note on me reading Dear Passed Out Girl, and ending with why I shouldn't drink so much. Damn Tequilla.
my brother walked in while we were fucking, silently took my bong from my closet, saluted us and walked out.
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We started hooking up and a group of freshmen outside my window started chanting my name. Encouraging yet distracting
I feel like I should lick our pitcher just so everyone knows its ours
Thursday nights need to stop happening to me.
Did everyone make it back alive?
You say that with such hope.
Is that a no?
still finding ketchup in my shoes. thanks to graduation that is probably the last time ill ever say that..
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Only thing I got out of his drunken Spanish is something that sounded like "pencil sharpener." Damn rosetta stone.
Remember that night I drank a bunch of vodka, pounded your Jameson because 'you were a pussy', punched you in the face and ran off as fast as my high heels could go? It was just my Russian and Irish sides fighting for genetic dominance
Even with having the shower running and music on everyone could hear the alcohol gods making me sacrifice my dignity and meals from the past week.
There was a huge crash. I came out of my room to find you sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs in your bra and panties. You looked at me, yelled 'WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE' and then ran back into his room.
Because that's what you do with poop. You expect the worst.
No I feel the same as usual. Mopey with a chance of bitch fits.
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