I am taking Sheesh's advice and starting a new thread for you crazies and all your insane exploits. I had no idea that the readers of this blog were a bunch of alcoholic outlaws. I thought that I was the only one! (((group hug)))
So, share your break-up and 'men are horrible' stories, and no, this is not a contest. I can't be giving away ALL my toiletries. Stanky ass janksters don't get the good joorey, as we all know.
As usual, I will start. This was a long time ago when I was a barely legal Twunt.
I was 18 and dating a guy we'll call Asshole. He was from a fraternity that was loaded with future firemen and outdoors-y guys with inscrutable majors. It was fun, he was cute, but nothing serious.
One night at the gigantic frat house we were getting our drink on, as usual. The only sober one was my friend D. She is tiny, almost Kelly Ripa-like in size. After a game of midnight flag football, I got frisky with the guy I was seeing (take a wild guess how) and he decided to take a shower. While he was in there, I wandered into a room where I heard a commotion. Thank God I did. One of the asshole's frat brothers was trying to rape my tiny friend. He sure stopped when all 100 pounds of me came flying into the room, beet red and blind with rage.
What happened next was a big blur of tears and hormonal male excuses, and I went to find the Asshole who was standing outside the bathroom door in just a towel. laughing. I asked him what was so funny, and he made some shitty remark about my friend not being good looking enough to rape, so I punched him in the balls. Turns out, that hurts. A LOT. Now it was my turn to laugh as he puked his guts out into the mop bucket in the hall. Needless to say, we ran out of there and I never saw him again.
Moral of the story: There is none. I just realized that half my stories involve me and balls. The end.
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