over the past few weeks, i have done the following: mixed up and consumed some quality beverages, eaten many a meal saturated with laxatives, dialed under the influence, battled the rabid sunday walmart crowd with nothing but a plastic coat hanger and a devious grin, and took it in the ass hardcore from my friendly campus bookstore and various professors (exam-wise, you dirty bird). for the math majors in the audience, those are five (cinco for our spanish speaking friends) telltale signs that i have traded in my bulletproof vest and pimp strut for my eastpack and late-to-lecture bulldoze run. bust out the bells, whistles, and, if i'm lucky, a bonus kazoo..cuz lex is back at the 'conn!
as you could probably tell from my less than abundant number of entries from mid-may through rightthisverysecond, the majority of my summer sucked big, bad, economy-sized (insert lewd and inappropriate comment here). work all day..too tired to do anything at night..every day off the sun is no where to be found. bet you've never seen a pasty italian chick at the end of summer. put me under a black light and i'll glow. it's like one of those once in a life time, blink-and-you-miss-it phenomenons, like haley's comet..or a black guy playing hockey..well. this ish is guinness book worthy, i tell you.
safe to say that things have changed since my triumphant return to cow country. what were once nights spent serving up espressos and getting the up-and-down from foreign men old enough to be my grandpa (or husband if i was a gold-digging, money-grubbing hoebiggitybag) are now spent carousing about downtown storrs..raising hell, breaking hearts and downsizing egos with perhaps some of the naughtiest girls in northeastern connecticut..though i may even go so far as to say the tri-state area..then the universe. while the pretty process can sometimes get a wee bit out of control sometimes (i.e., princess jeff epic and leaving the dorms at 11:45), it's all worth it at the end of the night..especially when there�s an empty table that needs a-dancing on or a fashion victim that needs a loud and public reminder that her jeans are U-G-L-Y. needless to say that gargoyles, projectile fruit, and drunken humping on public benches whilst wearing moccasins are strictly prohibited within 500 feet. you think you know? you don't have a fucking clue. watchyaself..cuz we shake it fast.
missions have become a favorite weekend pastime circa two weeks ago..a sure sign that reality tv is taking its toll on society. scenario: you are at a weakass party and your buzz is fading fast. sure there's more alcohol inside..but it's more packed, sweaty and scantily clad in there than slutskies on a thursday night (skanks included free of charge) to maneuver yourself effectively to the keg. rico not-so-suaves are coming up to you left and right..spitting some lameass game all over the place and someone just spilled some keystone on your oh-so-cute shoes. do you a.) look at your watch a few dozen times, sigh profusely, hop on the rape trail and party poop your way back home or b.) bust out some paper, a pen, and some scandalous schemes guaranteed to keep the party bumpin' till the wee hours of the morn? whatever your choice may be, i would like to give MASSIVE ups to hairy running man, strategically placed couches, boys sans shirts, heinous parents who created an equally heinous offspring, crazy japs, the walmart "jazz", and friends with nonexistent inhibitions for making this good time possible. next time you see a gaggle of girlies toting a camera at your next social gathering, beware. you never know when you could be the target of our dirty, dirty game. cheers!
lastly, a good skirt brings out the wade robson in all of us..minus the whackass sound effects and excessive perspiration (whoompbahhhh anyone?). please join in as i shake what my mama gave me.
..back in action for serious,
lex
as you could probably tell from my less than abundant number of entries from mid-may through rightthisverysecond, the majority of my summer sucked big, bad, economy-sized (insert lewd and inappropriate comment here). work all day..too tired to do anything at night..every day off the sun is no where to be found. bet you've never seen a pasty italian chick at the end of summer. put me under a black light and i'll glow. it's like one of those once in a life time, blink-and-you-miss-it phenomenons, like haley's comet..or a black guy playing hockey..well. this ish is guinness book worthy, i tell you.
safe to say that things have changed since my triumphant return to cow country. what were once nights spent serving up espressos and getting the up-and-down from foreign men old enough to be my grandpa (or husband if i was a gold-digging, money-grubbing hoebiggitybag) are now spent carousing about downtown storrs..raising hell, breaking hearts and downsizing egos with perhaps some of the naughtiest girls in northeastern connecticut..though i may even go so far as to say the tri-state area..then the universe. while the pretty process can sometimes get a wee bit out of control sometimes (i.e., princess jeff epic and leaving the dorms at 11:45), it's all worth it at the end of the night..especially when there�s an empty table that needs a-dancing on or a fashion victim that needs a loud and public reminder that her jeans are U-G-L-Y. needless to say that gargoyles, projectile fruit, and drunken humping on public benches whilst wearing moccasins are strictly prohibited within 500 feet. you think you know? you don't have a fucking clue. watchyaself..cuz we shake it fast.
missions have become a favorite weekend pastime circa two weeks ago..a sure sign that reality tv is taking its toll on society. scenario: you are at a weakass party and your buzz is fading fast. sure there's more alcohol inside..but it's more packed, sweaty and scantily clad in there than slutskies on a thursday night (skanks included free of charge) to maneuver yourself effectively to the keg. rico not-so-suaves are coming up to you left and right..spitting some lameass game all over the place and someone just spilled some keystone on your oh-so-cute shoes. do you a.) look at your watch a few dozen times, sigh profusely, hop on the rape trail and party poop your way back home or b.) bust out some paper, a pen, and some scandalous schemes guaranteed to keep the party bumpin' till the wee hours of the morn? whatever your choice may be, i would like to give MASSIVE ups to hairy running man, strategically placed couches, boys sans shirts, heinous parents who created an equally heinous offspring, crazy japs, the walmart "jazz", and friends with nonexistent inhibitions for making this good time possible. next time you see a gaggle of girlies toting a camera at your next social gathering, beware. you never know when you could be the target of our dirty, dirty game. cheers!
lastly, a good skirt brings out the wade robson in all of us..minus the whackass sound effects and excessive perspiration (whoompbahhhh anyone?). please join in as i shake what my mama gave me.
..back in action for serious,
lex