Tuesday, April 21, 2009

I walk with a limp cause my nuts heavy...

Well seeing that you lovely butches (okay, I meant to type bitches but it came out butches and think thats funnier, and more accurate for some of you, especially Esther and her dyke bun that I encourage you all to pull out whenever you see.) So, it has been SO long that I am just going to comment on funny stories despite their recentness or relevance.
I will begin this blog by saying, as if people did not think Agnes was a fuck up already, she is now even more noticeable and prominent in the frat circuit (before, it was simply because of her recurring and somewhat frightening blackouts and horrible, horrible inappropriate sex, but now it is so much more.) She is the very very pretty, very very single, and very very drunk pathetic fat girl hobbling on her pimped out beer carrying crutches. Somehow I don't think this is going to help any of her imaginary relationships or their longevity. 
Now, in a close second on that laugh-at-list is our dearest little Pearl. Last time I wrote she was in a tumultuous relationship with Pokey. That has since ended (although, from what I can gather, Pokey is trying for a rekindling). Too bad for Pokey, because he, nor anyone else, can compete with....drumroll please....Oliver. I name him Oliver because his small stature and constant state of "illness" reminds me of the famous Charles Dickens orphan, Oliver Twist. And so he was Oliver...
If you are not familiar with Oliver, which I'm sure you all are because his name is constantly present in all conversations, despite lack of invitation, let me introduce.
Oliver is a tiny tiny man with, I hope, a penis the size of a Christmas tree because our sweet Pearl is a little Bella Cullen with him. Some say she has imprinted. I am thinking more of Kathy Bates in Misery though. Please google the reference.
Does anyone remember Vivian? Because I remember a Vivian that was vivacious, scandalous, borderline inappropriate and a girl whos sexcapades and blackouts made me much more comfortable with my own. But now I am living with a stranger. A woman who stays in on a Thursday to hang out with Maverick, her boyfriend. Although I am happy for Viv I cannot hide my displeasure at being the lone screwup of the group. Its too much attention, I would like to share the spotlight. 
And Esther. A while back, and I would just like to comment on this, Esther made Skinny Bitch's roomate cry and then laughed about it. Her heart is just like her inbox from Wes...empty. 
Deborah got peed on, again. 
Myrtle is having an affair with a sexy skinny sig ep that I will name Sven. She had sex hair so Sven served her superbly. In the biblical sense. 
Montana has a boyfriend and no more bruises on her face from unwanted oral sex. Now she welcomes it with open arms and legs.
Before I leave you I would like to remind you that patellas are fragile, Plan B is expensive, drunk sex is usually depressing and regretful, and vodka is good. But whatever you do I promise Agnes will outdo you eventually, so the attention and ridicule will only be on you for a short while.
Stay sweet, sistas
(I am in such an alliteration mood)

DJ is a homo. 


Friday, January 16, 2009

its so fucking cold that vodka is the only thing left to drink that isn't frozen.

Hello my little shitheads, I apologize for the hiatus, finals was a stressful week for us all, and syllabus week proved to be an event in itself, but now I am back with more juicy tidbits and witty banter than ever.
Lets start with the beginning of the week...
The fratmosphere was thick Sunday night, and the new style this season is...hair mustaches. Myrtle, blacked out, became some sort of drunk zombie. I hear, although I was not there to witness it, that Myrtle was seen, silent, one eye closed, awkwardly lingering by David Blake. That's just what I hear, Myrtle. Vivian also found herself in the bed of an interesting Indian man...how does the brown man taste, Viv?
Monday night was also a success, and Pearl was seen raging and performing her stellar dance moves in the middle of the great hall. She then vomited and awoke in Pokey's bed, fully clothed, while he was completely naked. I'm not completely sure what happened, but I think it was some weird, freaky, sacrificial sex game. I don't though, I just get that vibe.
Jersey Tuesday was a subdued affair, Agnes proved her utter lack of social skills, and the night ended with a rousing and embarassing game of Never Have I Ever...
Montana, just where did that bruise on your nose come from? A rousing game of hide and go seek? Role playing? Tae bo? No? Ohhhhhh, it was an awkward and uncoordinated attempt to prevent KC from tasting Southern Montana? Hmm....see Myrtle's story below.
Vivian redeemed herself when she shacked, innocently, with only a few tender kisses, with a Mr. Hatfield. Well played, sir, well played.
Thursday was a typical Thursday. Blackouts and casual sex. Nothing new.
SPOTTED: Prudence and Fusak whispering sweet nothings into eachother's ears at Beta. Our sweet and modest Prudence is reluctant to admit that their love is blossoming like a rosebud in the early spring, but I cannot be fooled.
Agnes had a wonderful night Saturday, in which she managed to lose the shittiest phone on Earth, her liscense, pee her pants on the front steps, and wake up on Esther's cozy, cozy floor. I say this proudly and unashamed. Myrtle, on the other hand, gave Clarence a delicious snack that was her most precious jewel. That jewel being her woman parts, and I hear he is hungry for more. Esther has been spotted, numerous times, having vulgar and detailed phone sex with Floyd. Not really, actually, but since she hasn't done anything really embarassing for me to make fun of her for I can only hope.
Ida. Ida. Ida. Ida like to motorboat those new breasts. Just kidding. Ida like to actually have some actual breasts, is the truth. Or nipples for that matter (Love you, Prude) Good work Ida, Ida just walk around topless, all day, if I were you.
I apologize if this is a lot of information for just one blog, and I vow to be more efficient and timely in the future. It's just that you can't rush art, and it's really exhausting for me to be this pretty and insanely smart at the same time, some would call it a curse. I guess I'll learn how to manage this incomparable charm and dashing good looks one day...
Until then,
p.s. Could someone please tell tubgirl to clean her mess up out of the third floor bathroom? Deb is here to sweep and dust, not wipe up enemic fluid. Next time she'll have to pay a fine.