because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Monday, 14 November 2011

I'd have Eric Northman's babies. Totes.

The whole blogging everyday thing sort of fell by the wayside since I got paid. I'm not sorry. I drank my wages, and have spent the past three days in a gutter someplace rising only to indulge in more terrible behaviour that I can't write about here.

Look. What I do with a llama and a fine-tooth comb is my business, OKAY INTERNET?

What I can tell you is that any recent debauched experiences probably come from watching most of the most recent season of True Blood this week. To my roommate I was all like BUT ALL OF THAT VAMPIRE SEX MAKES ME TOTALLY HARD and he was like, UH-HUH and I was all, SO I MIGHT NEED YOU TO GIVE ME SOME ALONE TIME FOR LIKE, A MINUTE AND HALF WHEN I'M DONE and he was all EWWW LAURA YOU ARE SO GROSS and I just thought WHAT? I'M A WOMAN. I HAVE NEEDS.

Also: if there was ever a sexier effin' opening credit song written in the whole entire universe then I must know it and I must know it right now.

Related: I once told somebody I was seeing that I adored the hot, dirty, AWESOMENESS of vampires and shape-shifters and other True Blood things and before I knew it I was accosted by some glow--in-the-dark neon plastic fangs. That was awkward.



My favourite realisation of the weekend is that American exchange students seldom have a sense of humour. Especially if they are male. And from Arkansas. And have bloody knuckles. It's always the bloody knuckles that give this kind of stuff away. And the accent. And the male-ness.

"Yeah, man, we totally got done over," said one, as he swayed back and forth. Except he probably didn't actually say 'done over' because that sounds quintessentially British and they, Internet, were anything but.
"Those fucking carabinieri," said another.
My friend rose to the challenge and begrudgingly asked, "Why? What happened?"
"They stung us man! Made out like they were gonna sell us some weed, took our money, then told us they were under cover and that they wouldn't arrest us but that they were keeping our money."
"It was fifty Euro!" the other yelled.

I looked at the ugly one.

"I hate it when my drug deals get busted by the carabinieri," I said.

He stared back at me.

And then he just walked off.

At least vampires have personality.
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