Honey, you’re not playing hard-to-get. You’re hard-to-want. TSM.
Honey, you’re not playing hard-to-get. You’re hard-to-want. TSM.
Judging people by their Twitter following/followers ratio. TSM.
“I don’t even know his last name.” NS. I only know his last name. TSM.
There’s a Taylor Swift song for that. TSM.
Kloveyoubye. TSM.
Going through walk-in-closet withdrawal. TSM.
Changing your twitter background to your favorite Lilly print in hopes it will bring good karma to your sorority. TSM.
My sorority doesn’t have a crappy rap video. TSM.
I don’t have to photoshop my pictures to be beautiful, but i do it anyway. TSM.
The only person I solemnly swear I’ll never cheat on is my hair stylist. TSM.
The only picture of me by myself is my composite photo. TSM.
“Is it American Apparel?” TSM.
You’re always wearing your letters. TSM.
When Jimmy Tatro is your celebrity crush. TSM.
Hating a girl you’ve never met for flirting with your fratdaddy. TSM.
Never underestimating the healing power of a sleepover. TSM.
Instantly dropping a class when you realize you don’t have any sisters in it. TSM.
Gel > Acrylic. TSM.
Will I come over? Sure, if you send pledges to pick me up. TSM.
The only way I could love Starbucks more than I do is if the cups were pink and glittery. TSM.