I was in the frat house backyard, too drunk to catch a football, which broke/dislocated my finger. I got a cast put on in the ER and told girls fake news about how I broke my finger, the rest of the weekend.
I planned to go to bed at 8 last night, after a long day of day drinking. Instead, I drunkenly researched the two Butler teams, that lost in the National Championship game two years in a row, until midnight.
My master is allowing me to leave this sweatshop an hour early, so I can catch the train to Pure Michigan, where I’ll be cracking cold ones with the boys for the season. Lake life.
One time, I asked my date if she wanted to go do what only married people are supposed to do, in the woods, while we were at her sorority barn dance. She said no. It would’ve been pretty chill if it would’ve happened, though.
Corporate slavery has me fighting for every extra minute of sleep in the morning, until I’m out the door in 15 minutes, still miss the bus, and walk in late to work. More power to the morning workout people. I go at 6pm with all the other XSport, $30 per month membership peasants.
Not a bad idea to go to therapy. I’ve always just gone to my parents with my problems and I’m pretty sure they think I’m a crazy person. Then again, I probably am.
Last time I eavesdropped on a group of girls, I was by myself and in a long line to get into a crowded brunch place. A group of smokeshows behind me were debating whose boobs were the best, so that person could flash the bouncer, so they could all get in faster than everyone else. I immediately fell in love with all of them.
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I was in the frat house backyard, too drunk to catch a football, which broke/dislocated my finger. I got a cast put on in the ER and told girls fake news about how I broke my finger, the rest of the weekend.
Three cups of black coffee at 3am, while drunk? You’re a fucking deal closer, Duda.
That’s a power move. I was just a keyboard warrior.
Will, where are you and your girlfriend going to go for your earlymoon?
I planned to go to bed at 8 last night, after a long day of day drinking. Instead, I drunkenly researched the two Butler teams, that lost in the National Championship game two years in a row, until midnight.
Where he would join a top tier frat, make fun of Dillon in the TFM comment section, and hook up with girls just like the plastics for four more years.
My master is allowing me to leave this sweatshop an hour early, so I can catch the train to Pure Michigan, where I’ll be cracking cold ones with the boys for the season. Lake life.
Eating two pounds of the flesh of slaughtered animals a day keeps the doctor away.
Her accent was probably annoying as fuck, also.
One time, I asked my date if she wanted to go do what only married people are supposed to do, in the woods, while we were at her sorority barn dance. She said no. It would’ve been pretty chill if it would’ve happened, though.
I regularly fantasize about putting my two weeks in and never seeing anyone here, ever again.
Corporate slavery has me fighting for every extra minute of sleep in the morning, until I’m out the door in 15 minutes, still miss the bus, and walk in late to work. More power to the morning workout people. I go at 6pm with all the other XSport, $30 per month membership peasants.
Not a bad idea to go to therapy. I’ve always just gone to my parents with my problems and I’m pretty sure they think I’m a crazy person. Then again, I probably am.
Last time I eavesdropped on a group of girls, I was by myself and in a long line to get into a crowded brunch place. A group of smokeshows behind me were debating whose boobs were the best, so that person could flash the bouncer, so they could all get in faster than everyone else. I immediately fell in love with all of them.
Being straight and putting that you’re interested in both sexes, because there’s no need to cut your potential network in half. PGPM.
Any Lord of The Rings movie. For Frodo!
Wow, 200 bucks is a fortune for a college kid. You are scum.
You make the friends section sound like you’re trying to lose a serious drug addiction, not weight.
These two redcoats whining about this is the definition of a 1st world problem.
Drinking like you’re in college, until everyone you know is married and stuff is the American Dream. Thanks for pumping me up for this weekend, Nick.