Thursday, June 3, 2010

Men Get Raped, Too, You Know


And it's always funny [When it's by a woman -Ed.]:
Just wanted to extend a thank you to the very much of a big girl that roofied, then raped my roommate, and then robbed us blind last weekend. As you know my roommate doesn’t drink much and according to him after the two drinks you insisted on purchasing for him at Table Steaks, that was sadly his last coherent memory. In your defense my roommate is a pretty cool and funny dude to be around, but what’s not in your defense is that you drugged him, stole my IPod, his laptop and wallet, plus your white trash ass took five bottles of liquor from our bar. There is no way in hell that you didn’t drug him. I was awoken at three in the morning by you bumping your dirty fat girl music while giving my roommate a striptease and rubbing him up and down with your back fat rolls as he laid there motionless. You also had the audacity to ask if I wanted a lap dance next. Politely I replied “No thanks, I’m pretty tired, you too have fun.”
What I should have done is thrown a box of Oreos out the window and watch you race gravity to catch those delicious cookies all twenty stories down to the pavement. I will admit that due to your large stature, you probably could’ve kicked both of our asses, hell; you probably could have eaten at least one of us. Making matters worse not only did you rape my roommate but you did it while you were on the rag and left our couch looking like a fucking crime scene. One of the cops who showed up to our house to file a police report started gagging when we showed him our nice new cream colored couch that now after your endeavor; looks like someone drop kicked a can of meaty marinara sauce across it. Since you’re so fond of taking things that don’t belong to you, feel free to swing by ally adjacent to our condo and pick up that couch you and your hatchet wound destroyed. Also, since you treated my roommate like a mechanical bull, he has been limping around like a 17 year old German Shepherd with hip dysplasia all day; needless to say you fucked him up pretty bad. Oh my roommate just informed me that Season 3 of Arrested Development is missing, “Jesus, you are the worst kind of skank-waffle ever!”

Side note: This totally explains the weird strawberry syrup stains on my couch and--trust me--I have learned my lesson. From here on out, it is Jennifer Convertibles all the way.

Why? Because I'm worth it.


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