DUFF

Sunday, 13 April 2003

a friend of mine had a booty call dri­ve the two and a half hour trip from Purdue just to come vis­it her. ap­par­ent­ly she got all she want­ed from said booty call but the booty him­self was un­sat­is­fied. as she put it:

all he want­ed was my body, which is nice at least.

the day and a half the booty spent here was very awk­ward for her, they man­aged to dis­agree on every­thing from camp­ing to tree roots and she knew there was no hope for it when he men­tioned his dreams of be­ing an in­vest­ment banker or ven­ture cap­i­tal­ist.

ac­cord­ing to the eru­dite rules of our stu­dent hand­book: du Lac; the booty had to spend the night in my room be­cause mem­bers of ei­ther op­po­site sex can­not stay with mem­bers of the oth­er op­po­site sex af­ter 2am on ends of the week.

hence why the booty’s dreams of more lov­in’ were cut short by moi: the male equiv­a­lent of a DUFF. Which was fine, all i had to do was sleep and let some dude sleep on my floor. then as he was leav­ing yes­ter­day he knocked off one of my arg­onath stat­uettes and broke the hand off it. fuck.

at least my friend got some.