Dear Squinty-Eyed Pig Face Girl,
We haven’t known each other long, in fact we may never see each other again, but I feel the need to give you a little warning. I know you’re young and having fun, but a few of the things you do make you seem a little desperate, and that might get you a bad reputation.
I met you last night at the hot tub in our apartment complex, and I’m pretty sure you don’t remember very much of what happened there. Your face was abnormally small and took up a much smaller percentage of your head than a normal person’s. And as much as that scared me, it wasn’t the worst thing about you.
My roommates and I were relaxing after the bar, drinking a few beers and having a enjoying a soak– and then you showed up. Read More »













Everyone I’ve ever met has a dark past with tequila. Just the mention of it makes their face go sour–the shots, the smell, the blinding drunk, and a hellacious hangover the next morning. For some reason, I am not one of those people. But after my family vacation to Mexico last week, I learned a bit about another South-of-the-Border brew:
We can’t wear white anymore ’cause Labor Day passed (not that we care about chick fashion rules anyway…). 