You search the party looking for Zoey. The two of you grew up together, and maybe she could hook you up with some bitty. You wander all around the place, and ask if anyone has seen her. Though you don't find her, you do see two passed out girls' panties, so the search isn't completely worthless. Well, if she isn't here, then you might as well sift through her bedroom.
You open on the door expecting to steal some of her sexy, worn clothes, but are surprised to see her there. She looks up from the keyboard, and says hi. You come up with some excuse, something lame, you were worried that you hadn't seen her or something. You mention date rape like it's a bad thing, and not your most successful way at meeting chicks. She says thanks, but she's just finishing the paper for Mr. Wilson's class. It's worth 40% of your grade, you know? No, you didn't.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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