The fun got a little out of hand at the 29 Cafe last night. The word “douchenozzle” was introduced to our collective lexicon, despite no one really being sure what it might mean. One of my classmates expressed her fervent desire to co-star with me in a porn film. And of course there was the soon-to-be-infamous, can’t-kill-it “half monkey” conversation, which had me laughing so hard I thought I was going to rupture something. (“You know what the problem was with Twelve Monkeys?” “What?” “It wasn’t Twelve and a half Monkeys.”) I can’t even explain it. One of my classmates also related an anecdote where he told his class that he didn’t have a car. His professor joked, “What, did you get drunk and crash it?” Awkward silence. Then, “Um … actually, yeah. That’s exactly what happened.” Professor: “Um … oh.”
To balance that out, I woke up this morning to discover that some dipshit in Mexico somehow charged thousands of dollars to my credit card yesterday. Argh.
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