So true. My non-existent boyfriend and I really idolize NPH and David Burtka... I'm honored to have gotten them. Maybe someday we will pay someone to produce such cute little ones too.
February 26, 2014
Which celebrity couple...
My imaginary boyfriend and I took the "Which celebrity couple are you and your significant other" test and got:
Words of Advice
I will occasionally offer some advice to my precious readers... here's one for the winter:
If you are bundled up tightly, walking anywhere in the snow or ice, I can offer one very important piece of advice. No matter how cold your hands are, if you forgot your gloves that day, ALWAYS have your hands accessible and ready. You could go down at ANY MOMENT.
I learned this the hard way: As a freshman, I was racing to class in the snow. I had made it all the way to Armstrong Hall unharmed. Once inside, I booked it up the steps. After the second landing, with such grace and resilience, I slipped. My face broke the fall and met the above stairs abruptly. I couldn't get my fucking hands out of my jacket quick enough to catch myself. I don't know how I didn't lose a tooth or break my nose. It was a hard fall and hurt like a mother fucker. Of course this didn't go unnoticed. An older kid going down the next flight over turned around and offered a very concerned look. I don't know how he kept a straight face. He asked if I were ok, and with tears forming in my eyes, I quickly said yes and scurried up the remaining steps.
So everyone, always have your hands easily accessible... At all times, really. Especially if you're a naturally clumsy person. If you don't want to take this advice to heart, I wish for you a very similar and aggressive fall... with a much larger audience.
-DMS
If you are bundled up tightly, walking anywhere in the snow or ice, I can offer one very important piece of advice. No matter how cold your hands are, if you forgot your gloves that day, ALWAYS have your hands accessible and ready. You could go down at ANY MOMENT.
I learned this the hard way: As a freshman, I was racing to class in the snow. I had made it all the way to Armstrong Hall unharmed. Once inside, I booked it up the steps. After the second landing, with such grace and resilience, I slipped. My face broke the fall and met the above stairs abruptly. I couldn't get my fucking hands out of my jacket quick enough to catch myself. I don't know how I didn't lose a tooth or break my nose. It was a hard fall and hurt like a mother fucker. Of course this didn't go unnoticed. An older kid going down the next flight over turned around and offered a very concerned look. I don't know how he kept a straight face. He asked if I were ok, and with tears forming in my eyes, I quickly said yes and scurried up the remaining steps.
So everyone, always have your hands easily accessible... At all times, really. Especially if you're a naturally clumsy person. If you don't want to take this advice to heart, I wish for you a very similar and aggressive fall... with a much larger audience.
-DMS
What I got for my birthday...
24 really is a shitty birthday. If you're still receiving money from your parents, grandparents, and some aunts/uncles, like myself, all that money, hunnids and hunnids of doll hairs, goes to: BILLS. Fucking bills. Is this real life? I literally received over $500 and I deposited $100 into the bank, the remaining $400 went to my mother, because I'm in so much debt to her every. fucking. month.
Aside from money, I received copious amounts of fireball from my friends. Literally 4 bottles. All chilling in my freezer as we speak... waiting to be consumed this Friday at my birthdaypalooza at Bent Willey's. Fireball is my weakness. That stuff has healing powers. I could be contemplating going out because I'm "sick" or "tired" and will take one shot and I'm ready to fucking go.
Alas, on my actual birthday, I received a present not well received: a hicky. Who gives those anymore? I had to work the next morning! It wasn't a small one either... Noooo, of course it was massive. Thank god all my friends are girls. My neighbor was gracious enough to provide me with concealer. Luckily, we have the same skin tone. It was still noticeable DAYS later at my family birthday dinner. Thank god my grandmother is going blind... and my grandfather isn't fully aware of his surroundings... Because once they left, my mom was on it, "Where'd you get that sucker on your neck?" Sucker, mom? What?
I also got to do laundry the night of my birthday. See, the same guy yakked IN MY BED. Not to the side, off my bed, not in a nearby trashcan, but IN MY FUCKING BED. I've probably pulled some similar shit while clearly intoxicated, so I could level with him there... But, that was one thing I really didn't want to deal with on my birthday. I had to wash my fleece sheets 3 times. My downed comforter is back home in Wheeling, waiting until my mother figures out how to wash such an item. I'm lost without my downed comforter. It's fucking winter in West Virginia. If I weren't so goddamn poor, I'd go to Bed Bath and Beyond to purchase a new one. Fail. Major fail.
Where is my new Audi? Or a handsome sugar daddy? Where were the things I actually asked for? In my fucking dreams... I received them in my fucking dreams.
-DMS
February 24, 2014
Social Media Birthday Blasts
I was graced with many birthday collages this year... Here they are.
Oh Chels, my bestie and future roomie in El Lay, those are some primo pics you've got on your hands! I expected worse haha
Cort, is it weird we are doing the exact same pose two years in a row!? #Jamboprobz
Toad, I thought I burned all those... lmao #middleschoolprobz #fatkidslovecake
Oh #ChessietheBestie... loved this one... We look better as zombies.
Probably my favorite, no offense, but my sister does have access to some fantastic throwbacks... considering she's my sister and all. Loved this, Breezy!
DEM LEGZ!! And how sexual were we bottom-right!? Thanks Chelsea!
Lolololz I wouldn't expect anything more random from muh gurl Madi Mo... She's gonna be on Ellen someday!
My half sister from another mister and I don't mess around. #classy
Erika, I apologize if I tackled or molested you that day :/ #Alpha4Lyfe
Carlita was sure to have some good ones... and she did. Thanks for capturing me in a somewhat acceptable behavior... I'm trying so hard to become a real adult.
Muh OG gurl AnnaMariah found a good one... #OGbabies
Oh, you know, stuffing a cat in my UPS uniform, dancing my brain off in LA, and flipping the camera off at Jambo... you caught some great ones, XANDRA <3
Literally am I licking your tit, Em? And didn't that get sent to our work group text!? LMAO, either way, it was totally acceptable! Loved this!
Another sister of mine, Carmen San Davis... Girl, you got it coming on your bday ;)
Erika and I love two things: boys and tacos. lolol
Finally, one of my best friends from kindyyygartenn... I knew she'd have some good ones as well, I'm such an attractive specimen of the male human species. #yeahright #sass
Thanks to all my friends who took time out of their day to embarrass me on social media... I truly do adore you. And thanks to everyone who celebrated with me on my birthday and/or in Columbus! I couldn't have a better group of friends!
I can't wait to see the rest of you twats that missed out on either of the above nights at my big party this Friday!!
Thanks for making 24... well, 24. Fuck, I'm getting old.
-DMS
February 19, 2014
Preparing for 24
Dear twats,
Tomorrow, I embark on my 24th year of life. I am not at all pleased with turning 24... Why? Because I look back at my life and realize I have accomplished nothing spectacular. Granted, I've had the opportunity to travel to Europe, I received my bachelor's degree, and I'd like to think I've lived a rather fun life. But, I failed to find a job upon graduation, I am tens of thousands in debt, I'm perpetually single, and now, I blog. What has my life become?
I do plan on going all out for my birthday, something I haven't done since my 21st birthday, when I rented out the frattastic Motown bar, Rain. That was an awesome birthday party I'll never remember. This year, I plan on spending my birthday weekend in Columbus with some close friends and little sister. The week after, I'm throwing a private rager at one of my favorite Motown bars, Bent. All in all, I better have a good time... I've taken some precautions so nobody ruins my good time. I'm all about good times, not so much good vibes, but good times.
If you're wondering what I'd like for my 24th birthday, here's a sampling of my "wish list":
- A fucking job. Preferably, one located in Los Angeles that pays more than $60,000
- Some new clothes. I already have an impressive wardrobe, but I always find myself wearing the same shit.
- A new car. I love my Jetta, but I'd love an Audi even more
- A sugar daddy... Now, this one shall be limited in scope. I just want presents in return for my fun and charming accompaniment.
So, as I celebrate the 24th anniversary of my life, I request that nobody get in my way. Don't fucking bother me with your bullshit or petty drama. Come to my party and don't make it about you. Leave your drama and whiny attitudes at the door and buy me a fucking shot. You'll forever be in my debts.
Best,
-Dylsny
Tomorrow, I embark on my 24th year of life. I am not at all pleased with turning 24... Why? Because I look back at my life and realize I have accomplished nothing spectacular. Granted, I've had the opportunity to travel to Europe, I received my bachelor's degree, and I'd like to think I've lived a rather fun life. But, I failed to find a job upon graduation, I am tens of thousands in debt, I'm perpetually single, and now, I blog. What has my life become?
I do plan on going all out for my birthday, something I haven't done since my 21st birthday, when I rented out the frattastic Motown bar, Rain. That was an awesome birthday party I'll never remember. This year, I plan on spending my birthday weekend in Columbus with some close friends and little sister. The week after, I'm throwing a private rager at one of my favorite Motown bars, Bent. All in all, I better have a good time... I've taken some precautions so nobody ruins my good time. I'm all about good times, not so much good vibes, but good times.
If you're wondering what I'd like for my 24th birthday, here's a sampling of my "wish list":
- A fucking job. Preferably, one located in Los Angeles that pays more than $60,000
- Some new clothes. I already have an impressive wardrobe, but I always find myself wearing the same shit.
- A new car. I love my Jetta, but I'd love an Audi even more
- A sugar daddy... Now, this one shall be limited in scope. I just want presents in return for my fun and charming accompaniment.
So, as I celebrate the 24th anniversary of my life, I request that nobody get in my way. Don't fucking bother me with your bullshit or petty drama. Come to my party and don't make it about you. Leave your drama and whiny attitudes at the door and buy me a fucking shot. You'll forever be in my debts.
Best,
-Dylsny
February 13, 2014
Abercrombie's Demise
Can anyone recall the last time they physically walked into an Abercrombie & Fitch store and actually purchased an item? I can't. I went to South Hills with my mom and sister over the winter break and decided to stop into one of my "favorite" stores in middle and high school.
I couldn't justify why anyone, including myself, would ever or currently buy Abercrombie clothing. I remember Christmases where I asked for the most absurd pieces of clothing from Abercrombie. My parents, when married, we very well off, but there was no need to spend $90+ dollars on a pair of faded and ripped jeans or a fleece pullover. Their merchandise was rarely on sale, too! I can't believe I asked for such clothing as a kid. I obviously didn't understand the value of a dollar.
Anyone remember the, "It's All Relative in West Virginia" tee?? I purchased one online just to have. To me, it was hilarious, I still think it's hilarious, but it's a low-blow to our state. Although, recently, this state has turned to shit. Abercrombie has historically created much negative press with materials such as those or comments made by top executives. Mike Jeffries, CEO, has said publicly, on numerous occasions, how their brand is meant for the "popular, attractive kids with a lot of friends" and not meant for "larger people". Does that douchebag think comments like that will HELP his brand? If so, he's seriously delusional.
Abercrombie has closed over 170 stores nationwide since 2009 and they continue to make cuts. The brand is simply not doing well. Why? Because they have failed to evolve with young Americans. Teens these days are not hell-bent on being in the "in-crowd" and spending absurd amounts on generic clothing just for that obnoxious moose label or "1892" plastered on their chests. The comment Jeffries has made also doesn't help.
If you've ever bought Abercrombie clothing and/or don't know the current state of the company, please read this article originally printed in New York Magazine. Unless Abercrombie makes changes ASAP, they will cease to exist. Do everyone and yourself a favor... continue shopping at Gap, H&M, and Forever 21... Fuck A&F.
You can find the article here:
You can find the article here:
February 12, 2014
SHOSHI 2014
Do you watch girls? Do you love Shoshonna? Do you watch the winter Olympics?
If you answered "YES" to at least two of those... you're gonna fucking love this...
http://shoshigames.tumblr.com/?og=1
If you answered "YES" to at least two of those... you're gonna fucking love this...
http://shoshigames.tumblr.com/?og=1
February 11, 2014
"I'm not drunk, you betch."
One of my favorite YouTube videos! I've met my fair share of sorority girls, and thankfully, the ones that are my friends don't act like this... But, I know many and have overheard many say dumb shit like this.
"I just saw a fat as shit squirrel... She was probably a DG" lolololz
SNYDERFEST
For whatever reason, my mother trusted me with our old house. My parents built it when I was in kindergarten and I can honestly say it was the nicest one on our street. If I can give my dad one compliment, because I can't give him many, it's that he maintained our house like a professional. When my parents were separating, my mom would go away for weekends and leave me the house. I don't know what would possess her to do such a thing, but she trusted me nonetheless. I guess she figured if there were any issues, my dad, who was fucking the neighborhood whore across the street, would get ahold of her.
One night, I decided to have a random array of friends over for a party. I had been having parties on a regular basis now and had coined them "SnyderFests". This particular night, a friend from work, a lesbian, brought her lesbian friends. I love lesbians, especially my friend, let's call her Marissa. Marissa was one of the funniest lesbians I had ever met and probably my only gay friend. Side note: I don't prefer having other homosexuals as friends and for some reason, meeting lesbians is a hard task... honestly, where do they hang out?
Marissa and her friends drove up from downtown Wheeling, after leaving the bar, LaCage. LaCage (spelling?) was a gay bar and probably the only one in our godforsaken town. They drove up to my house, intoxicated from LaCage and we continued drinking into the night... Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing even rowdy about this "Snyderfest"...
The next morning, I awoke to random lesbians all over my living room. I took a lesbian roll call and found one was missing, but nobody knew where she was. I started cleaning up and another lesbian friend of theirs picked all the remaining lesbos up. After a couple hours of recouping, I decided to go to the gym. As I was backing out of my driveway, a police car was pulling in. WTF
We both got out of our cars and he greeted me with, "Are you Dylan Snyder?" I responded "yes" and he proceeded to ask if I had a party last night, to which I assured him only a few friends were over; it wasn't a party. Truthfully, I wouldn't have called the prior night a party- more like a small drunken gathering. Wellllll, apparently there was a girl in the local Emergency Room claiming she was at my house and wasn't in good shape. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I was told to follow him to the police station.
Once I arrived, the policeman starting grilling me, asking who I had invited over, what we were drinking, and if there were drugs involved... then he dropped the bomb: the girl, who I had pieced together was the missing lesbian, told her mother she was drugged... at my house... and they assumed it was me. NOW, what would I, an openly gay kid, benefit from drugging a goddamn lesbian?? He then asked for my account of the night. I immediately told him how that group of girls had arrived at my house after visiting LaCage in downtown. The policeman's face was instantly dismayed... apparently, the girl, who was underage and not out to her family, decided to keep that part of her night out of her story. I could even remember her bragging to me at my house that she had been bought many drinks at LaCage... Bitch, if you were drugged, it was probably by one of those filthy lesbians who frequent that dirty, dikey bar.
I gave him a written statement, maintaining that I had nothing to do with her misfortunes that night and asked if he knew my mother, the principal at our local elementary school, which seemed to help me in the situation. Before I walked out of the makeshift police station situated in the center of our dreary community park, I asked if I needed to get a lawyer. He said I should be ok, but that he'd be in contact with me soon. I never heard back.
Later that day, after calling Marissa and flipping shit on her and asking what the fuck happened to her stupid lesbian friend, I was able to piece together the night. Apparently, the lesbian who was missing in the morning had left my house the night before in her car... Even though Marissa did not condone. I don't condone drinking and driving either, although I've been known to do it, but this bitch definitely didn't need to be behind the wheel. She was found in the early morning hours walking up a major roadway several miles from my house, disoriented, intoxicated, and covered in blood. Blood. Da fuck? This twat had driven her car from my house to South Wheeling, a good five miles. But, during her drive, she managed to rip the concreted basketball hoop out of my neighbor's front yard, which pierced her windshield and continued driving to her destination of the Lowe's parking lot. When found covered in blood walking up the road, she was taken to the hospital for alcohol poisoning and suspicion of drug use. You would think that a large object, like a basketball hoop, piercing through your windshield would have deterred her from continuing her drunken voyage OR given her cuts and scrapes, leading to the blood found on her... but... It. Wasn't. Her. Blood. WHAT?! I don't think they ever determined where the blood came from. It could've been from a number of things, like, maybe she also ran down a small animal and decided to check on its survival... or maybe she killed a hobo in cold blood with a gun she had stolen from LaCage. Either way, that was the most peculiar part of the night and I don't care to know where the blood truly came from.
I haven't seen this lesbian since and I don't even remember her name. She lost a lot of my respect the moment she claimed I drugged her... like, really bitch? You got what you deserved: your stomach pumped, your car fucked, and outed to your family. Cyabyeeee
-DMS
One night, I decided to have a random array of friends over for a party. I had been having parties on a regular basis now and had coined them "SnyderFests". This particular night, a friend from work, a lesbian, brought her lesbian friends. I love lesbians, especially my friend, let's call her Marissa. Marissa was one of the funniest lesbians I had ever met and probably my only gay friend. Side note: I don't prefer having other homosexuals as friends and for some reason, meeting lesbians is a hard task... honestly, where do they hang out?
Marissa and her friends drove up from downtown Wheeling, after leaving the bar, LaCage. LaCage (spelling?) was a gay bar and probably the only one in our godforsaken town. They drove up to my house, intoxicated from LaCage and we continued drinking into the night... Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing even rowdy about this "Snyderfest"...
The next morning, I awoke to random lesbians all over my living room. I took a lesbian roll call and found one was missing, but nobody knew where she was. I started cleaning up and another lesbian friend of theirs picked all the remaining lesbos up. After a couple hours of recouping, I decided to go to the gym. As I was backing out of my driveway, a police car was pulling in. WTF
We both got out of our cars and he greeted me with, "Are you Dylan Snyder?" I responded "yes" and he proceeded to ask if I had a party last night, to which I assured him only a few friends were over; it wasn't a party. Truthfully, I wouldn't have called the prior night a party- more like a small drunken gathering. Wellllll, apparently there was a girl in the local Emergency Room claiming she was at my house and wasn't in good shape. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I was told to follow him to the police station.
Once I arrived, the policeman starting grilling me, asking who I had invited over, what we were drinking, and if there were drugs involved... then he dropped the bomb: the girl, who I had pieced together was the missing lesbian, told her mother she was drugged... at my house... and they assumed it was me. NOW, what would I, an openly gay kid, benefit from drugging a goddamn lesbian?? He then asked for my account of the night. I immediately told him how that group of girls had arrived at my house after visiting LaCage in downtown. The policeman's face was instantly dismayed... apparently, the girl, who was underage and not out to her family, decided to keep that part of her night out of her story. I could even remember her bragging to me at my house that she had been bought many drinks at LaCage... Bitch, if you were drugged, it was probably by one of those filthy lesbians who frequent that dirty, dikey bar.
I gave him a written statement, maintaining that I had nothing to do with her misfortunes that night and asked if he knew my mother, the principal at our local elementary school, which seemed to help me in the situation. Before I walked out of the makeshift police station situated in the center of our dreary community park, I asked if I needed to get a lawyer. He said I should be ok, but that he'd be in contact with me soon. I never heard back.
Later that day, after calling Marissa and flipping shit on her and asking what the fuck happened to her stupid lesbian friend, I was able to piece together the night. Apparently, the lesbian who was missing in the morning had left my house the night before in her car... Even though Marissa did not condone. I don't condone drinking and driving either, although I've been known to do it, but this bitch definitely didn't need to be behind the wheel. She was found in the early morning hours walking up a major roadway several miles from my house, disoriented, intoxicated, and covered in blood. Blood. Da fuck? This twat had driven her car from my house to South Wheeling, a good five miles. But, during her drive, she managed to rip the concreted basketball hoop out of my neighbor's front yard, which pierced her windshield and continued driving to her destination of the Lowe's parking lot. When found covered in blood walking up the road, she was taken to the hospital for alcohol poisoning and suspicion of drug use. You would think that a large object, like a basketball hoop, piercing through your windshield would have deterred her from continuing her drunken voyage OR given her cuts and scrapes, leading to the blood found on her... but... It. Wasn't. Her. Blood. WHAT?! I don't think they ever determined where the blood came from. It could've been from a number of things, like, maybe she also ran down a small animal and decided to check on its survival... or maybe she killed a hobo in cold blood with a gun she had stolen from LaCage. Either way, that was the most peculiar part of the night and I don't care to know where the blood truly came from.
I haven't seen this lesbian since and I don't even remember her name. She lost a lot of my respect the moment she claimed I drugged her... like, really bitch? You got what you deserved: your stomach pumped, your car fucked, and outed to your family. Cyabyeeee
-DMS
February 6, 2014
Fall Fest Fuckery
Recently, at a cabin in bumfucked Ohio, my friends and I were discussing their random visits to WVU over the years. One story stuck out: Fall Fest 2009. Fall Fest is WVU's "welcome back" party. They usually book semi-popular bands/singers that provide a "free" concert to all students, the first Monday of school. It is always hot AF in August at Fall Fest, the crowd is unbelievably large, belligerent, and unruly, and to this day, I don't remember a single Fall Fest. I've attended five. There's something wrong with that figure.
Several friends visited me that year, 2009. As we were reminiscing, one friend explained how she "touched Akon that night" and the other, let's call her Morgan, said, "I ate rat poison that night, nothing much else."
"Nothing much else"?! Really bitch?! Da fuck?!
The picture above shows Morgan surrounded by cigarettes, not her own, and the white powered behind her is some kind of rat poison/pesticide that legitimately found its way into her mouth that day. WTF
* Apparently, Morgan, who's real name is obviously not displayed, still didn't want her gorgeous, rat poison-infested face on my blog... so she requested to have her face blurred... whatthefuckever.
-DMS
February 5, 2014
Ohh, Susie!
So my sister and her roommate, who were involved in witnessing Susie's lowest point on my 20th birthday, just reminded me of what happened AFTER we got home from picking her up...
Susie was visibly upset from her public display of affection with a token black lesbian, or maybe the fact she missed out on McNuggets. Either way, she was not pleased... and NOT ready for bed. We were all congregating in my bedroom, trying to get to bed, when I offered a nugget to Susie. Being the asshole I am, I didn't just hand her said nugget, I threw it towards her. Hot messie Susie could barely stumble her way to my bathroom across the hall, let alone catch the smallest nugget from my batch.
The nugget went missing and Susie went on a violent rampage to locate it. In the meantime, she threw anything that was in her way across all directions of my bedroom, including my computer chair, which she hoisted above her head and chucked onto my bed. This would be somewhat acceptable, considering her current state of mind, but she threw the chair on some unfortunate twat who was passed out in my bed. She. Didn't. Move. That computer chair was a clunker, probably as old as I... yet that bitch must've been just as fucked as Susie for not waking up.
I eventually locked Susie out of my bedroom so I could sleep peacefully. She retreated to the living room where she most likely stayed up until sunrise twiddling her thumbs and having conversations with herself since no one else was awake... Something Susie still does to this day.
-DMS
Susie was visibly upset from her public display of affection with a token black lesbian, or maybe the fact she missed out on McNuggets. Either way, she was not pleased... and NOT ready for bed. We were all congregating in my bedroom, trying to get to bed, when I offered a nugget to Susie. Being the asshole I am, I didn't just hand her said nugget, I threw it towards her. Hot messie Susie could barely stumble her way to my bathroom across the hall, let alone catch the smallest nugget from my batch.
The nugget went missing and Susie went on a violent rampage to locate it. In the meantime, she threw anything that was in her way across all directions of my bedroom, including my computer chair, which she hoisted above her head and chucked onto my bed. This would be somewhat acceptable, considering her current state of mind, but she threw the chair on some unfortunate twat who was passed out in my bed. She. Didn't. Move. That computer chair was a clunker, probably as old as I... yet that bitch must've been just as fucked as Susie for not waking up.
I eventually locked Susie out of my bedroom so I could sleep peacefully. She retreated to the living room where she most likely stayed up until sunrise twiddling her thumbs and having conversations with herself since no one else was awake... Something Susie still does to this day.
-DMS
February 4, 2014
Birthday Follies
In honor of February being my birth month, I'm going to provide some stories from past birthdays that have surely gone done in history.
For my 20th, as a sophomore at WVU living in a basement in Sunnyside, I invited all my friends over for a pregame. My little sister and her current roommate even attended, as seniors in high school. This was the same time in my life that my parents were divorcing and I was losing my shit mentally. That night I did a random assortment of drugs on top of drinking. My friend, let's call her Susie, was by my side all night... doing all the same shit.
Later on in the night, after drinking this, smoking that, and snorting whatever, we decided to head downtown. Back in those days, before the horrendous fake I used for a few months before I turned 21... we frequented places like Chasers N Dreams, Tabu, and Karma... this night, we chose Karma.
I have and always will hate clubs... and I fucking hated Karma. Chasers was my underage club of choice. They always played good music, had penny pitchers, and you were almost always guaranteed to witness an extravagant hot mess. These types of scenes were usually, but not limited to, nasty-ass girls on a pole in some makeshift cage provided by Chasers, or apparent penetration on the dance floor. Yes, penetration. There was always some unfortunate-looking slut getting railed in the middle of a drunken crowd.
I have no idea who convinced me to go to Karma, but it happened. Probably, because Chasers' line was wrapped around to the side street. Ain't nobody got time for that. Fucked up beyond belief, Susie and I found our way to the dance floor. She quickly made friends with a boy, most likely to obtain alcoholic beverages, and I managed to get myself a drink. Susie was now making out with said boy on the dance floor, who resembled a meatball straight off the STD train from Jersey. He was no taller than she and his name was, coincidentally, Dylan. I was not amused.
All I wanted was McNuggets. I loafed around the club a little bit and finally called my seventeen year old sister to come pick me up. Susie, at the time, did not want to leave. She can be a stubborn drunk when she thinks she's having fun. Her phone was apparently dead, so I told her if and when she wanted to come home, use Pauly D's phone to call me. Surprisingly, this isn't a difficult task when drunk, since my number is so memorable to my friends. Those bitches give my number out to rando's at the bar ALL THE DAMN TIME. It never fails that on random nights out, I'll have a text saying, "Hey girl, it's _______, how you doin'?" Sometimes, I play along, others I break the news bluntly and sarcastically. Nothing gives me more joy than fucking with some creep trying to rape one of my friends.
So, I left Susie to fend for herself with the Jersey Shore wannabe. My sister and her friend came and got me, and we drove ferociously to obtain McNuggets. In the drive thru, I got a call from a random number. It was Susie... she was ready to come home... and sounded a little distraught. We were on the other campus at McDonald's, so I told her to hold tight. Sadly, she wasn't my main priority, she could've easily left with me before, so those Nugs took precedence.
We drove back downtown with delectable McD's in our hands to scoop Susie up from the club. We were driving on High Street, slowing down outside Karma, where I specifically told the twat to wait, but didn't see her immediately. We finally spotted her after a small crowd dispersed from the sidewalk, pinned against a brick wall, in broad view of High Street and all it's surroundings, making out with a burly, cornrowed, black man. I rolled down the window and yelled at her to get her ass in the car. I knew she wouldn't be pleased with the misfortune of aggressively making out with someone on the busiest street in town.... let alone with some hoodrat sporting South Pole clothing and a do-rag.
* Disclaimer: I'm in no way racist. I may come off so in my writings, but it's simply to provide visual representation. I've been known to court a black man, but some of my friends aren't on the same page.
That's when, all of us in the car, were taken aback. The man turned around as Susie walked towards the car and we all got a good look at the mysterious figure... he was none other than a SHE. Susie had somehow managed to meet an alluring black lesbian on the streets of Morgantown. I don't know if it was her obvious masculinity or her somewhat sketchy, yet approachable demeanor, but Susie felt comfortable around he/she. To her defense, she was very manly. I may have been easily confused myself, considering the cocktail of drugs and alcohol we were both on, but I had sobered up... and wasn't a complete imbecile. My sister, her friend and I instantly lost our shit. Susie, on the other was not pleased. She got in the car, with her gloomy face and googly drunk eyes and whimpered, "I thought it was a boy!"
I seriously cannot make this shit up. It is by far one of my favorite stories of Susie, a friend I've had since we were in kindergarten. What makes this unbelievable scenario even funnier is that she is neither attracted to black men, nor women. This was definitely out of character for Susie. Usually, we can count on her for some loud, obnoxious, drunken fun... in the form of an awkward dance display or random, public bar make-out sessions. Either way, she's simply the best. I always have a good time with Susie, no matter what the circumstances.
More to come from #Susie!
And more to come from my memorable birthdays!
Have a glorious day, bitchez.
-DMS
For my 20th, as a sophomore at WVU living in a basement in Sunnyside, I invited all my friends over for a pregame. My little sister and her current roommate even attended, as seniors in high school. This was the same time in my life that my parents were divorcing and I was losing my shit mentally. That night I did a random assortment of drugs on top of drinking. My friend, let's call her Susie, was by my side all night... doing all the same shit.
Later on in the night, after drinking this, smoking that, and snorting whatever, we decided to head downtown. Back in those days, before the horrendous fake I used for a few months before I turned 21... we frequented places like Chasers N Dreams, Tabu, and Karma... this night, we chose Karma.
I have and always will hate clubs... and I fucking hated Karma. Chasers was my underage club of choice. They always played good music, had penny pitchers, and you were almost always guaranteed to witness an extravagant hot mess. These types of scenes were usually, but not limited to, nasty-ass girls on a pole in some makeshift cage provided by Chasers, or apparent penetration on the dance floor. Yes, penetration. There was always some unfortunate-looking slut getting railed in the middle of a drunken crowd.
I have no idea who convinced me to go to Karma, but it happened. Probably, because Chasers' line was wrapped around to the side street. Ain't nobody got time for that. Fucked up beyond belief, Susie and I found our way to the dance floor. She quickly made friends with a boy, most likely to obtain alcoholic beverages, and I managed to get myself a drink. Susie was now making out with said boy on the dance floor, who resembled a meatball straight off the STD train from Jersey. He was no taller than she and his name was, coincidentally, Dylan. I was not amused.
All I wanted was McNuggets. I loafed around the club a little bit and finally called my seventeen year old sister to come pick me up. Susie, at the time, did not want to leave. She can be a stubborn drunk when she thinks she's having fun. Her phone was apparently dead, so I told her if and when she wanted to come home, use Pauly D's phone to call me. Surprisingly, this isn't a difficult task when drunk, since my number is so memorable to my friends. Those bitches give my number out to rando's at the bar ALL THE DAMN TIME. It never fails that on random nights out, I'll have a text saying, "Hey girl, it's _______, how you doin'?" Sometimes, I play along, others I break the news bluntly and sarcastically. Nothing gives me more joy than fucking with some creep trying to rape one of my friends.
So, I left Susie to fend for herself with the Jersey Shore wannabe. My sister and her friend came and got me, and we drove ferociously to obtain McNuggets. In the drive thru, I got a call from a random number. It was Susie... she was ready to come home... and sounded a little distraught. We were on the other campus at McDonald's, so I told her to hold tight. Sadly, she wasn't my main priority, she could've easily left with me before, so those Nugs took precedence.
We drove back downtown with delectable McD's in our hands to scoop Susie up from the club. We were driving on High Street, slowing down outside Karma, where I specifically told the twat to wait, but didn't see her immediately. We finally spotted her after a small crowd dispersed from the sidewalk, pinned against a brick wall, in broad view of High Street and all it's surroundings, making out with a burly, cornrowed, black man. I rolled down the window and yelled at her to get her ass in the car. I knew she wouldn't be pleased with the misfortune of aggressively making out with someone on the busiest street in town.... let alone with some hoodrat sporting South Pole clothing and a do-rag.
* Disclaimer: I'm in no way racist. I may come off so in my writings, but it's simply to provide visual representation. I've been known to court a black man, but some of my friends aren't on the same page.
That's when, all of us in the car, were taken aback. The man turned around as Susie walked towards the car and we all got a good look at the mysterious figure... he was none other than a SHE. Susie had somehow managed to meet an alluring black lesbian on the streets of Morgantown. I don't know if it was her obvious masculinity or her somewhat sketchy, yet approachable demeanor, but Susie felt comfortable around he/she. To her defense, she was very manly. I may have been easily confused myself, considering the cocktail of drugs and alcohol we were both on, but I had sobered up... and wasn't a complete imbecile. My sister, her friend and I instantly lost our shit. Susie, on the other was not pleased. She got in the car, with her gloomy face and googly drunk eyes and whimpered, "I thought it was a boy!"
I seriously cannot make this shit up. It is by far one of my favorite stories of Susie, a friend I've had since we were in kindergarten. What makes this unbelievable scenario even funnier is that she is neither attracted to black men, nor women. This was definitely out of character for Susie. Usually, we can count on her for some loud, obnoxious, drunken fun... in the form of an awkward dance display or random, public bar make-out sessions. Either way, she's simply the best. I always have a good time with Susie, no matter what the circumstances.
More to come from #Susie!
And more to come from my memorable birthdays!
Have a glorious day, bitchez.
-DMS
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