I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Pretty certain he passed out for a while going down on me. Absolutely certain he passed out during the blow job.
I've only left my bed to pee and eat nutella out of the jar with my fingers
I already have one guy that I have regrettable sex with. I don't need another.
Currently in the bathroom stall of a gay bar in new haven giving myself an anti throw up pep talk
You were so high you insisted on spoon feeding me your KFC bowl while I was driving.
Was who let the dogs out playing?
Ya. You started barking when it ended
Curled up in the fetal position, trying not to throw up or think about my future, and humming songs from musicals to myself. You?
A nap. You broke your hand napping in Vegas.
Did your surprise acid trip turn out well?
Her roommate was talking on her cell when I came out of the bedroom and I definitely heard her describe how shitty and terrified I looked. Awesome.
My liver is fucking rocky. Get knocked down 7 times and gets up 8. World champ
I'm so excited you texted me but I'm way to high to process it
At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if he laughs at all of our attempts to keep him sober.
I don't need no damn man when I have the cock-a-nator 2000.
It's really hard to tweet with a pussy in your face demanding attention.
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