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Ten real submissions, 19 photos, and three videos that didn’t seem quite right. Names were omitted to protect the guilty.
Tagging yourself on the crotches of your slams in their Facebook photos. TFM.
That’s a bold strategy, and one I’m sure they all appreciate.
Did 3 pots and an alcohol at a Zeppelin concert last night. Like father, like son. TFM.
Do us all a favor and drink three bleaches.
Was hooking up with a sorostitute when I heard Wagon Wheel start playing. Put on my pants, grabbed my beer and went down to sing along. Came back and she was still in bed, totally understanding of what had just happened. TFM.
She sounds like a keeper, and you sound like king of the try-hards.
Your GPA and your BAC both being .11. TFM.
Probably not something to brag about, chief.
Screaming “GDI MOVE!” every time your opponet misses a shot in beer pong. TFM.
I’m sure everyone enjoys playing with your dumb ass.
I have a good Tinder pickup line: On a scale between one and Obama leaving office, how excited are you for this weekend? Follow me on Twitter so i can send the screenshot
You serious, Clark? Come on.
Not having to aim your frick (fratty dick) while you’re pooping because it’s natural girth aims it down for you, leaving you two hands to order more Jimmy John’s. TFM.
You disgusting son of a bitch.
“You pay for you friends,” says geed. To which I respond, “Go pay to live in the dorms like a geed you geed.” TFM.
Was outside with my frat (frat cat) and this sloot walked by and was diggin’ my frat (frat hat) so we started to frat (frat chat) and eventually took her inside to pound, but she said I was too frat (frat fat) so she just frat (frat sat) on my face. TFM.
For the love of God, man. Stop.
I’m an alcoholic, rely solely on Adderall, and dabble in cocaine. I still manage to be in the top 10% of my Economics and Accounting courses. TFM.
That’s great. Good for you. Go to rehab.