Where is the hickey?
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
They're drinking Schnapps out of Spaghetti-o's cans. Please come pick me up.
I woke up at 5 this morning face down on my bed with gummy bears stuffed in my leggings. Yeah.
Hey. I found $5 in quarters from one of those state quarter collection books. I'm using it for food tomorrow.
We convinced you to take a shot out of the sponge...there were still suds in it.
my boss just accepted "because it's 4/20" as a legitimate reason to take Friday off
Rush week is fine, only the t-shirts are white and if it rains, the frat boys in their lawn chairs will be treated to 800 freshmen girls in their first wet tshirt contest.
Welcome to college.
You came home with a traffic cone and said, "this is my birthday condom."
I mean, I introduced myself as "the after party". I think he knew early in the night he was in for a bangathon.
He literally wrote out a schedule. On it, there's a taco break, and a spot where I start crying.
I didn't want to have shaved for no reason, so I told him I'd blow him if he would just come over and appreciate the smoothness of my legs.
I don't know what's worse the fact that I woke up with a clit piercing or the fact that I didn't pay for it.
What am I supposed to say? "Hey remember last spring when I did an ergonomic assessment on your office, well here's an ergo for your dick."
Fuck your fuckin pumpkin spice. You and your subtle differences frighten and disgust me.
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