Miss Fab has been partying quite a lot in the past few days. You guys can't say I don't provide appropriate research for my articles.
I hurt my arm last week. (No, I wasn't drunk, I slipped during my dance practice.) That didn't stop me from going out with school buddies, however, and having a hell of a good time. Journalism students might be very unsexy, but boy, do they drink! All of a sudden, a drunken nerdy girl in my program started - ahem -"dancing" (actually, she was trying to move her hips in a sexy way) with the BIGGEST crush I've ever had.
Let me explain.
I was nine years old when I saw him for the first time. He was in my class in elementary school and I thought - and still think - he was gorgeous. I used to be an almost-mute little girl, so never did I dare talk to him. For the next two years, I would shyly stare at him from far away at recess and hope he would invite me to dance each time we had an elementary school disco party. I finally realized that nothing would happen between us when we went in different high schools.
Now, he's part of the communications department at my university AND he was dancing with a trashed nerdy whore?! In all my drunkiness, I thought that was insane.
The next evening, I went out with Cherry and her cousin to go man-hunting. After too many tequila shots, we hit the dancefloor. I thought one of the bouncers look just like one of the hot managers at the resto-bar where I work, so I danced whorily and without mercy. Instead of looking at me, he was too busy taking care of the promotion chicks.
Clubs sometimes have really corny themes. That night, a bunch of girls were dressed as angels and devils. I get good ol' God must have had a heart attack when he saw how ugly they were. Plus, they weren't even dancing!
I ended the night playing bootilicious with this aggressive asshole. He was a lot of fun dancing with, but kept on trying to choke me. Tired of feeling molested, I slapped him at one point and told him to calm down, which he did.
I deleted his phone number five minutes later.
The next night, after having laughed/screamed/carried beer pitchers all evening because of multiple bachelors' and bachelorettes' parties at work, I went to Rodzilla's house where he was hosting a party. The ONLY hot guy, it appeared, had a girlfriend.
Too bad, I thought. I would've definitely intensified the constant grin he had on his face if he hadn't had the "other" glued to him the whole time.
Time to sleep, guys. I wish y'all a good night and stay tuned for more raunchiness next weekend...
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