The amount of belligerent tit-flashing and mooning that has already occurred among the four of us is unreal.

For no particular reason, we've decided to interchange the words "sandwich" and "penis." Don't ask.

And the flatulence? Ooohhhh, the flatulence.

Wish you were here.

I'm in Manhattan. It's Fleet Week. The ensign are ripe and plentiful.

As much as I hate, hate, hate crowded booty-shakin' bars, I had much fun last night observing the completely wanton mating dances between the tube tops and the uniforms.

My friends and I ended up acquiring 2 of those gay-looking sailors' caps, and one full-on swanky captain's hat. I wish I had some raunchy story to relay as to how we managed to snag those hats, but alas, I don't. We just took the things and ran.

The poor guys are probably in trouble with their superiors, and they didn't even get laid for it.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

---

BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

---

BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

---

««« Chicago Blogs Webring »»»

---

email:

---

words © luvabeans, 2003 - 2004