It's been an entire week since your last confession and there's been a lot of good, solid sinning going on across the country. Check out the top 5 and don't forget to submit your misdeeds to our submission page!

After I had a party in our apartment, you complained about our tub being dirty because of my friends and I doing shotguns in it. So I cleaned the tub. I used your loofah to do it though. Then I used it to scrub the floors and walls and even our dirty fungus covered toilet. A couple weeks later, I put that same loofah in our clogged toilet (after another party). Then I put some of the trash into your soap. But it's okay since you don't actually use your loofah. I mean, you haven't actually washed your dirty self in a week anyways? White trash.
Laura S, Towson University



So, you always thought you had complete rights to our room every weekend. You and your beastly girlfriend would lay up in your top bunk and do whatever it is wildabeasts do to reproduce. Your actions were inexcusable, and possibly illegal in several states. The after-sex smell on Monday mornings was horrendousÂ… so I knew I had to put a stop to this. Luckily, bunk beds aren't held together with cement. I loosened a few screws, pulled the beds apart just a bit, and waited for you two love-bears to come home. I wasn't there to watch you two go at it, but I heard the outcome from across the hall. After the atom-bomb went off in my dorm room and you two left in anger, I had the room to myself. It was a good weekend, huh?!
Mike H., School Not Given

Remember how you told me you were "just" taking my car a few miles away to hang with your friends while I studied? Well after learning you were driving nearly 50 miles, getting drunk and then driving home I decided to report my car stolen to the police. I hope grand theft auto and DWI don't fuck over your life too much. Maybe you shouldn't lie about shit.
Marshall L., School Not Given

Well, it wasn't in a dormroom, but back in secondary school (high school in the states) we always used to trash the school on the day we broke up for exams (it was a tradition), so this quite often included vaseline or marmite on banisters, fishes behind the radiators, balloons (once with water, flour and air in, it was basically a cake-floor on the bottom corridor), one time someone made a massive pyramid out of chairs. Anyways, one year, we went berserk, we got two sheep, and let them loose in the corridors, but first we had to write "1" on one sheep and "3" on the other. As they herded them out onto the field, and tried to keep everyone else calm, it dawned on one of the teachers that they had sheep1 and sheep3, and I've never laughed so much as some poor old woman shouted out "WHERE IS NUMBER 2!!", needless to say, the school went mental trying to find it, but not after the sheep had sharted all over the corridors.
Anonymous, School Not Given

Remember when the spaghetti we had tasted funny. Remember when you thought you tweaked a nerve in your mouth because your mouth was all numb each morning. While you were rubbing it in that you had been hired for your dream job to your concurrent boyfriend, I heard you mention your mandatory drug test. I mixed three whole grams of cocaine into your toothpaste. I also put about an eighth of marijuana into our spaghetti. I know you called all your friends and family over the course of five days to rub it in that you found your dream job; paid summer travel, great salary, great benefits, they were even going to pay for grad school. I know you sold me your truck because you wanted to rub it in that they were giving you a company truck. I know you spent most of the money from the truck celebrating your new job in Homer with your "new" boyfriend last weekend. I know you quit your current job because you were starting the new one in two weeks. I know you own the house, but I pay the mortgage because your old dead end job didn't pay enough. I also know you cheated on me in the house we share. I know you lied when you told me you had cheated and said it was a one time deal. I know you used the condoms I bought. I know you still do, I poked holes in them. I also completely moved out while you were in Homer. I guess the cool thing about paying your mortgage was you never made me sign a lease. I am not going to sell your truck back to you; I'm not going to sell you back any of the furniture I bought. I know you are very confused why I disappeared thinking I had no idea you had been cheating for a while. I know they filled your old job because you told me blubbering and crying in the message you left me about how you miserably failed the drug test and lost your new job after one hour on the job, and you can't get your old one back. I was going to ask you to marry me in June. Fuck you whore, have fun with foreclosure.
Cheated On



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