See, this is what happens when your a drunken slut

When you are a drunken slut, all the time, you will just naturally align yourself into slutty, drunken positions, even when it is completely uncalled for. Take this lovely picture of me and my roommate Jordyn. I believe that, before the taking of this picture she simply said "who loves orange soda?" But placed it a little bit too low on her torso. Me, taking what I thought was my very obvious cue, fell to my knees and assumed the position. The awkward part? That's a two liter of sunkissed. It will take no pleasure in such an act. And poor Jordyn is not attached to this bottle, so she will find no pleasure in the act either. Overall, an awkward situation. But, being the good roommate she is, she feigned enjoyment for the picture. Afterwards, she most likely kicked me in the chest and said "Your not welcome in here with your dirty prostitute tricks" or something like that.

Walking—The Most Awkward Mode of Transportation

Life sucks when your fucking awkward. Just ask this guy....guys. How do they decide which way to walk?

I guess I should count my blessing that I was not effected by pollution mutation or whatever the fuck cause this natural catastrophe, but one thing I was not bleessed with was the ability to walk and enjoy it.

Why? I think I'm an okay walker—a bit on the slow side, kind of a shuffler, but I make it work. but for some reason I am always the one girl that walks on the exact same path as someone else, and it becomes like that weird mirror thing they do in movies—I move left to avoid them, but at the exact same moment they move left to avoid me. And the cycle continues until we, me and this stranger on campus, are literally standing still a half an inch away from each other, afraid to move in case the other person decides to. 

Also, I manage to see people all over campus that I once talked to all the time, during that first week of freshman year where if you had a pulse, we were friends, but I don't talk to anymore. And i always end up walking right next to them on some deserted path. Or we do the weird becoming-each-other's road block thing.

This would be more awkward if I was on a segway. BY FAR worst idea ever for transportation. Seriously, I am now 80 percent more likely to go to a mall and steal some shit just to see those cops try to catch me in their goddamn segways. Those things are fucking inefficient. And what if I get on an elscalator? Chase over, and I've got a brand new north face jacket, FO FREE!

haha jk. Like I would ever buy a goddamn north face jacket. I might as well hand a 100 dollar bill to the devil.

Daily Dose of Awkwardness

This is college. I am in a particularly large college, where they told us that it's a good possiblility that is you sleep with someone at a frat party on Saturday night, there is absolutely no chance in hell you will see them on Monday walking around. 

This is a lie. Because I promise you, if you have sex with a random ass frat guy, you dirty little slut, he WILL be in one of your lecture classes, and you will see him from across the room, and he will see you, and you will see him whisper to his friend, and that friend will point at you. And it will be awkward.

Especially if said hook-up went down during your crazy fall quarter. Especially if on this night, you were supposed to go to an "Anything for an A" themed party, and dressed for the occasion. Then, the party got rolled by the cops, so you had to haul your checkered skirt donning ass to another party—a Pirate party. And you went in and hooked up with a Pirate. And in order to bed him, you had this brilliant line. You asked "How many girls have you slept with?" and He replied "Nine." and you, you sexy little minx, you replied "Can I be your number ten?"

Because your a sinning slut and god hates you, this particular guy WILL show up in your lecture hall a quarter later. And its awkward.

Awkward Baby Picture!

Today I'll start you off with a little pick-me-up of awkwardness. Me as a child! Though I swear this is exactly what I look like after a rough night of drinking. Some things just never change!

Can you believe that THAT THING was the strongest sperm? That must have been one weak batch of sperm that night!

Good Job, Super Sperm!

Jordyn, the beauty in the picture below, brought up a point that made me feel great, but everyone around us feel awkward.

Her theory is that no one should ever feel depressed, or sad, or insignificant. Why? Because we are the strongest sperm!

Yes, you, reader, beat out millions of other sperm in a race to your mother's egg! there were sperm who swam backwards, sperm with two tails, sperm that didn't even make it IN, but YOU, you made it all the way to the end, and you took that egg and you zygoted all night long and now your here, super sperm!

So call your dad and thank him. Say "Thank you dad for not ejecting me down moms throat. Thank you for not using a condom. Thank you dad, for giving it all you got and getting me, super sperm, to the finish line!" 

So, to everyone we passed tonight, we yelled "aren't you happy? You are the strongest sperm!" Needless to say, they felt awkward, and slowly retreated back to their dorm rooms, locking the door. 

Every time you see a blank whiteboard, take out your trustee expo pen and write "This is a dorm room filled with only the best sperm! Be proud!"

So rejoice super sperm, for you are beautiful!

Props to Jordyn. She gets the double turtle today.

Daily Dose of Awkwardness

I had a pretty good, surprisingly not awkward day today, so I decided to humiliate two of my best friends. Here is the caption to this lovely picture we took a couple weeks ago after a couple of shots.

Me: Ok girls, make a face like you smell some piss!

As you can see, The blonde on the right, Erin, knows how it would feel to really smell some piss. Jordyn there, on the left, has a very different perception of the way piss smells. Making for one hell of an awkward picture. Way to go Jordyn! You get the turtle for today!

Uh.....hi.....

I feel sort of bad saying that this picture makes me feel really special in my no-no yes-yes place. I mean, why in god's name is Emile Hirsch just laying there, with his pants being ripped off his body but the tide, in like, the middle of the night? What was the picture even taken for? I dunno, but I'm kinda glad it came to me today.