the italian/saudi/french job

as told by the big brown cunt…

i needed a break from the usual bunch of hos and tricks i waste away my youth with, so naturally, i went to the source. and by source, i mean my inspiration in life. if people call me the big brown cunt, this bitch, who happens to be family by the dub, is the big brown cunt squared. if you think my actions make me a crazy slut, this bitch makes me look like a prude girl scout wearing one of those cracker jack promise rings. as our destination for debauchery, we chose the mystical and magical hot spot, monte carlo. for those low class members of society, monte carlo happens to be where billionaires blow their money gambling, as well as wining and dining their barely legal escorts. bbc squared and i spent a fair amount of time drinking ourselves into oblivion, and baking our perfect bodies on the beaches of the french riviera. when feeling the need for some sort of activity, we would dip into the super salty mediterranean, which can be aptly described by bbc squared: “this water is worse than cum”.

after our daily dose of vitamin d and skin cancer, we returned to our hotel to prepare for the main event: a night at jimmy’z, the ultra exclusive club at the monte carlo casino. we dolled up as slutty bombshells in our jimmy choo knockoffs and short pseudo designer dresses. of course, we had our main accessory hanging from our lips: cigarettes. for the non-cultured folks, cigarettes are crucially necessary to pass off as european, and not some american tourist trash. we hop on the train and arrive at the club at precisely 11:30, only to be shocked to see that it does not open until midnight. our emotions at this point could be summed up in one word: embarrasseddisappointedfrustrated. the kind bouncer then escorted us to the lounge which offered our favorite source of sustenance for this trip: a full service bar. for the next half hour, we indulged in many too many b52 shots with the five male waiters, who all heartily recommended we skip on jimmy’z because the night would not end well. if only we had listened to these modern day nostradamuses. nostradami? whatev.

with our blood alcohol content now at a more appropriate 0.20, we saunter into the lame jimmy’z. a quick yet thorough assessment of the septuagenarians populating the premises forces us to make a beeline for the bar so that we could more easily accept our unfortunate surroundings. our fortunes quickly turned when two attractive young gentlemen walk up to us and offer to finance our next round of flaming b52s. they cooly explain to us that they are italian business yuppies and had a private table with bottle service. nothing else needed to be said, and our next destination was in our gps. a few more glasses of champagne, and the night ends in darkness for me. 8 hours later and luckily not missing any teeth, i wake up still waste face in our hotel in an unfamiliar shirt with smeared makeup. i look around to see the bbc squared sitting calmly eating some watermelon. she then informed that i had lost my camera and that we had missed our train to milan.

chomping away at her slice of watermelon, bbc squared helped me to fill in the blanks. she and i had decided to each take an italian stallion; she took the tall vince vaugh looking fellow, while i took the shorter blonde with glasses, who purportedly looked like a poor man’s bill gates. i cannot refute this claim as my camera had gone mia. also, i have no recollection of the night. but i have poor taste in men, so i took her word for it. we each have our way with these men, but the bbc squared splits after legit 3 minutes, “to use the loo”. 8 feet away from her previous hook up spot, she then proceeds to get it on hardxxcore with a saudi prince. well, that is just awkward for poor vince. in my quarter hearted attempt to be a decent human being, i try to console him over my partner in sluttiness’ infidelity, but to no avail. the two then offer me an ultimatum. i could either leave with the both of them back to their villa to engage in the devil’s threesome, or can leave their vip table immediatamente. i choose the latter, and proceed to steal the bbc squared away from a future life of lavishness because we needed to leave and catch our 2 am bus.

with heels in hand, we sprint to the bus stop, only to discover that it is actually 4:30 in the am, and the next bus or train will not be leaving until 6 am. taxis back to our hotel, an oh so far 10 km, were turning out to be 80 euro. since we are frugal bitches, we cancel that idea, and decide  that the best thing to do would be what any other drunk and hot girl needing a ride would do: ask for gratis rides back home from strangers on the road at this hour. after many failed attempts at securing our safe passage home, a french guy in a mercedes suv, who goes by the name casanova apparently, pulls up and offers a ride back, “at no cost!” tricky frenchy motherfucker.

the ride started off quite pleasantly, with details of our respective lives and small chit chat playfully bantered between the three of us, with many profuse offerings of thanks thrown at this francophone. however, he abruptly pulls over and proceeds to lean over and make out hardxxxcore with bbc squared sitting shotgun. uncomfortable and unhappy and unknowing of what to do as a member of my clan was being tongue lashed by this strange man, i decided against taking a picture, and just sat there in silence with my eyes covered. this pattern of driving a couple kilometers and the random pulling over and prostitution repeated itself a few times for the duration of the trip. bbc squared was a trooper and she gained my utmost gratitude that night. we were bid adieu in front of our hotel, and the two of us stood there and looked at each other for a second before simultaneously saying, “well, that was a bad decision”.

 

the air conditioner unit

fortunately for me, i don’t spend all my life around my standard group of sluts. i like to mix it up and diversify my portfolios of hos. when i’m being international, i roll deep in bitches. i know. envy my life. anyways, after exam time, we had a week of parties before finals. no weeks if you were a dumbass and were going to fail classes. i was killing school and it didn’t matter how i did on finals, so my week consisted of three things. alcohol. weed. partying. all i needed was an ak-47 and i’d have the atf after me. or ti.

so i’m just living my life, and woke up at 6 in the pm after a night consisting of copious amounts of cannabis and starburst. and grilled cheese sandwiches. i think. good combination. my personal chauffeur calls me up and reminds me that there is a party tonight at this place called the mansion. not that crap in miami. just a big ass house where people throw parties. of course i’m down and i do my grooming. upstairs and downstairs. right on queue, the chauffeur comes by and we pick up some bitches to roll with. bk, smoking girl, and british. 1 man, 1 driver, 3 girls. ideal ratio.

we arrive at the mansion and check out the scene. pretty nice. lots of alcohol. lots of girls. lots of music. lots of space. i approve. i go around and make my standard greetings and photo ops. i settle down and take a seat on the lower patio. these mofos have a deck and a lower patio. baller status. smoking girl comes over and sits in my lap and we start chit chatting. bk comes over and is super waste case. british and chauffeur come around too and we are having a nice discussion about how slutty girls from school are when not studying. the verdict? pretty slutty. and then, smoking girl kissed me. bk almost ejaculated in happiness as she was bffs with smoking girl. i was a little taken back, but whatev. then, smoking girl kissed me again. this time, bk did explode. moisture. bitch wipes herself off, and is like “do it again! do it again! i want to take a picture!” i tell the bitch to chill, because the last thing i want is to have pictures of me kissing hos all over the internet. bk then says to me, “be a real man and kiss her. i won’t take any pictures. promise”. damn. ho challenged my manhood. i’ll show her. i take smoking girl by the hand and we go off to the side of the house for some privacy. cuz i like to keep it classy. like ron burgundy.

you know what’s not classy? hooking up on top of an air conditioner unit on the side of a house in public. oh well. sorry ron burgundy. i let you down. also, turns out smoking girl is a bit of a freak. asses were smacked. ears were cleaned out. necks got vampired. lips were bloodied. and then, with a bosom in my mouth, the questions started. “you know i have a nosering, right? you know i’m not drunk, right? you know i really like you, right? you know you can have this whenever you want, right? am i a good kisser? do you like when i do this? are we married now? have you ever done this with the short one?” pause. expository narrative coming up.

apparently, i’m a man whore. smoking girl had been sweating me for a long time. like, since the jurassic era. roar. but, i was chilling with this other ho, the short one. the short one was not cute, but alas, i liked her for a hot second. nothing came out of it, so i got over it. but, smoking girl hated the short one. she had told me repeatedly that she hadn’t raped me before because she thought i liked the short one. and bingo was his name-o. apparently, she thought i really really liked the short one and had hooked up with her. bitch please, i have standards. now that that’s cleared up, back to the air conditioner.

turned off by having to play 20 questions, i finished up. we went back to the lower patio and joined the rest of our lovely gang. bk had managed to saturate the entire party with her squirts of glee. smoking girl went off for a cigarette break, and that’s when bk went all brooklyn on me. “you old panchod, smoking girl loves you. she’s wanted this for a while. i’m so happy you guys are together. i want you two to change your facebook statuses, update your twitters, and make it known to the world you two are together and married now. and if you even break her heart, i swear, i’ll fucking murder you”. holy. shite. in. my. pants. i told that bitch to chill out, ain’t nothing changing. i waved over my chauffeur, and we all peaced out of the mansion and called it a night. smoking girl, bk, and brtish all get dropped off at their places. i end up back in my room, fire up the porn, and utter to myself as i loosen up my right hand, “well, that was a bad decision”.

 

the $1.99 ho wrap special…

 

a few months after the ramifications of the blizzard, there was pretty legit fallout. the big brown cunt was more awkward than ever. the notorious VAG was in shock and awe. the biggest ho we know, well, she was still the biggest ho we know. and me, i was still hanging out with these bitches. why? i don’t know. boredom i guess. oh well. the next opportunity for debauch times had arrived. yup. another afterparty. this time, there was no blizzard. it was another one of those ethnic afterparties that these hos schedule their lives around. it was the afterparty for some event called dh. dh for dry humping? prolly not. but whatev. it worked out that this night was all about dh.

so we did our ethnic thing first. good times? more like a waste of time. but now, it was gametime. these sluts spent about 5 minutes plus/minus 4 hours getting themselves ready for when they would become sexual predators looking for the ultimate hookup that night. they probably should have known that the only one who was gonna get some that night was the one who gets some every night, tbhwk. surprise, surprise. of course, the only reason i roll with these bitches because i’m smart enough to realize that if you roll with enough sluts, you aren’t paying cover. write that down guys. so we just walk right in and the games begin.

i’m on the lookout for fresh 18 year olds who are fresh and ripe like fresh mangoes. and fresh. because i only eat fresh. like subway. bbc, VAG, and tbhwk go straight to their fav place. $1 canadian if you can guess where that is. too late. the bar.  if these sluts aren’t waste case when on the prowl, it doesn’t even matter because the story is gonna be lame-o. like an iphone wannabe-o. we get on the dance floor and do our thing. tbhwk is pretty bad, so she looks like she is just having a seizure. it is not hot. however, her general stank ho-ness overwhelms, and she manages to get some attention. the VAG is getting mildly sexually assaulted by some rat looking fellow who has the same name as me. but not really. and the bbc? well, she’s being awkward and dancing alone in the corner. and sweating. profusely. like, bitch please, get a towel.

so the hours go by. each of us is doing our own thing. i’m getting tired because i’m an old man. these 18 year old sluts have way too much energy. i go over to the bbc, who now looks like she has just stepped out of a pool. it’s not attractive. we save the VAG from the rat. the three of us are looking for the other ho of our little club when we see something that will haunt us for the rest of our lives. looking back, we probably should have seen it coming. like a ho about to take a nut in the eye. but whatev. we find tbhwk. except she is not alone. instead, she has formed a new being with some runty looking fellow called the cloak. tongues have swapped std-laced saliva. hands are all over each other’s not hot bods. tbhwk has thrown a leg around the runty looking fellow called the cloak and has wrapped him up like a spider does to its prey. after viewing this animal planet documentary on the mating habits of species super nast, i feel the sudden urge to vomit. let it fly old man.

after clean up in aisle 3, i gather the troops. the topic of the moment is whether to let tbhwk continue her stomach turning union with the runty looking fellow called the cloak. the other option is to intervene. duh. so we take up a vantage point and check the situation. yup. the not so hot and heavy action is still going strong. we keenly observe for the next too long moment of time, waiting for a break in the action. that moment finally arrives as the runty looking fellow called the cloak exits the location to use the loo. we run over to tbhwk and slap that stupid grin off her face. “what the shit are you doing with that runty looking fellow called the cloak? did you by chance look at his face? or his short stature? or his dirty wanna-be goatee? i mean, we know you are a ho, and you are the biggest ho we know to boot, but have some standards, bitch!” tbhwk, unfazed by this attack on her non-existent character, responded with a silly look on her face. “i’m in love. this is gonna last forever. i’m gonna let him do whatever he wants to do. sexually.” she pushes us aside, and runs off to put that runty looking fellow called the cloak’s cock in her mouth. looking over at the bbc and the notorious VAG, one thought comes to our heads, and we all express it aloud at the same time. “well, that was a bad decision”.

 

the blizzard concludes…roar (part 3)

having just watched the bbc and tbhwk in action, there was only one chance left of leaving this hell hole with any dignity. well, we have no dignity anyway, so it’s a losing battle. like not getting knocked up for these bitches. but whatev. all hopes lay with the notorious VAG, or, as they called her on the west coast, vaggie loose. but looking back at the events of yesterday, i should have known that VAG was about to go down. yes, like that.

cut to the past day, these hos and i were kickin it (like jet li) at the hotel when i spotted some foreigner with hair dyed like he was part of *nsync. that was cool. in 1996. too bad it was 10 years later. these bitches immediately labeled him tiger stripe. even though tigers are orange and black, and this guy’s hair was yellow and black. stupid sluts. alas, t-minus two minutes later, the notorious VAG is up and running after tiger stripe, who in the span of 30 seconds has been renamed TS. not like ts elliot. she spins TS around and says to him, “you are the music while the music lasts.”TS, being uneducated about all things, especially how to do his hair, responds with the infamous, “whaaa?”. VAG, not known to be shy, sharply quips back, “that’s ts elliot. whatev, he’s dead. you are cute. let’s bang later. and by later, i mean at the afterparty.” with that, vaggie loose came back to us. the bbc and tbhwk sat around in shock. the kind of shock a bitch experiences when someone busts a nut in their eye.

cut to the afterparty. VAG and TS were hitting it off big time. it was kinda cute. if you liked that kind of stuff. there was one pretty funny moment when one of TS’ friends danced with the VAG. in ten seconds of dancing contact, this man got erect. in his penis. into her back. an awkward look on her face later, vaggie loose was back with TS. the night ended with an exchange of not only digits, but some saliva as well. all seemed well. but things never end well for these bitches.

cut to one weekend later. im chilling with these bitches once again. because i have nothing better to do with my life. we’re sitting around discussing how big of a ho the biggest ho we know is when alas, a phone call comes from TS’ phone. the notorious VAG is giddy as can be, and while her annoying as mosquitoes ringtone is going off like the incredible hulk, she tells us all excitedly about her and TS and how he is in vancouver (i told you he was a foreigner) and how great he is and how much fun he is and just shoot me now, she finally picks up. an excited “hi TS!” quickly turns into a look of shock. and awe. TS is not on the other line. turns out, it’s TS’ main bitch, his gf. how this dual toned hair boy wonder has a legit girlfriend is beyond me. vaggie loose starts to tighten up and i could sense panic setting in. she hangs up. seconds later, the phone blows up again. more threats. hang up. lather, rinse, repeat for the next hour.

cut to one day later. the notorious VAG’s phone starts blowing up with texts. in his ghetto vancouver way of texting, which includes such gems like, “b0i eYe iz crAYzEe oVa HeaR”, and “dAt bitCH eYe duNN0 hEr”, he expresses his undying love for her. VAG, having a surprisingly level head on her shoulders, responds by telling TS to peace out.

cut to one week later. once again, i have nothing to do, so i’m with these bitches. fuck my life. this bitch’s phone is blowing up like it’s london and it double ya double ya eye eye up in this place. it’s from vancouver, so she picks up. it’s not TS. some guy claims to be his friend. that’s a lie. TS has no friends. whatev. TS’ “friend” goes on about how he really likes the VAG (who doesn’t?), but his bitch ex-gf is outta control like 50 cent and mobb deep. actually, more like kurt cobain outta control, because she’s threatening to kill herself if the VAG and TS keep talking. true story. VAG, realizing that this is all 4 time zones away, lets him know that, and adds that it is 100% not worth her time. but no. in vancouver, the phone has just been passed on to guess who? TS’ mother! true story. so this auntie gets on the phone and is like, “beti, my son is in real love with you, but his ex is crazy, and we just need to take of her, then all will be free for you!” true story. VAG, known to pass out spontaneously, sits down, and asks momma TS if this is legit. her reply? “of course beti. soon, TS is going to call you while glenn close is on the phone listening in, and he will say there is nothing going on between you two, and you will agree! then, he will work things out with her to avoid a bunny rabbit in my dhaal situation, and we will be rid of her.” true story.

cut to one hour later. VAG is bugging out. the phone rings. it’s TS. he starts off with, “oh hello there. i would just like to say, there is nothing going on between us.” meanwhile, i can hear this other bitch breathing on the phone like she needs advair. the VAG, known to mess about with the best laid plans of men, responds classically. “um. no.” she hangs up, and never answers his phone call again. she looks over at us with a devilish smile on her face. “well, that was a bad decision”.

 

the blizzard’s queen…(part 2)

ok, so the bbc had achieved her goal of the most awkward makeout possible, but that bitch had nothing on our next contestant on “any price is right for this slut”. the champion of them all was next. the biggest ho we know. aka, tbhwk. one may wonder how one gains this title. its pretty simple. just be the biggest ho possible, and eventually, you will become the biggest ho known to your group of bitches. there are a bunch of jokes made about tbhwk. a good pickup line for her, “hey bitch, wanna go upstairs? i got a $100 bill tattooed on my cock and i hear you like to blow money”, or “bitch, put this dick in your ear and fuck what you heard”.  any hole crevice, or fold on her slutty bod, she’s done it. you know those freaky porns where guys are banging a girls armpit? been there, done the back of the knee as well. got a small wanker? she’ll let you put it in her nose. this night, tbhwk turned in one for the ages.

continuing with the bbc’s quest for ugly ivy leaguers, tbhwk outdid herself this night. one thing needs to be mentioned about this bitch; she was super ashamed of her heritage. she would talk about wanting to find a nice medically inclined guy from her culture to settle down and have babies with. but every dick she has attacked has been foreign. she was one of those people that is ashamed of her skin. like bitch wakes up in the morning, looks at herself in the mirror, and curses her parents for not being born in america, followed by an apathetic “f my life”. back to this night. so, tbhwk is on the prowl for any non-indo ugly ass ivy leaguers she can find so she can swap stds with them. lucky for her, there were like 3 of them that fit her profile there that night. so i’m chilling and i see her approach one of them, who is affectionately called the monkey. she does her thing, which involves her flashing a tit, giggling like a school girl, and throwing a leg around her victim like a praying mantis would do. the monkey can not resist. saliva is swapped, and chlamydia has found a new host in the monkey (tbhwk is a repository for stds; she would put the cdc to shame). as soon as she had spread her disease and had achieved her duty towards the group bet, she left the monkey. but alas, this was not the end of tbhwk.

within minutes of leaving the monkey with the need to get antibiotics, tbhwk had located the next stop along the hiv highway, a man affectionately called the jew. the jew was a star amongst our crowds, mostly because he was a jew, and there no south asian jews. the jew was no south asiatic, he was a full blown white-o. a white jew. perfect for tbhwk. with the monkeys face still wet and sticky from tbhwk’s infectious saliva, she legit jumped onto the jew and attacked him with her mouth. i half expected her to impale the jew with her tongue like the hot constantly naked alien in species. except tbhwk was no hot constantly naked alien in species. she was more like a constantly naked whore. only seconds later, tbhwk had gotten what she needed out of the jew (a pearl necklace), and left syphilis as a thank you gift for the jew. she picked herself up and left the jew on the floor wondering what had gone on. the monkey looked on in shock. and awe. like baghdad. but she was not done yet. her eyes had wandered.

wanting to round out her “sex around the world in 5 minutes tour” that evening, tbhwk had located her next target. the not really mulatto, friends of the monkey and the jew, had just witnessed the terror that tbhwk had just caused. hoping to escape her spray of gonorrhea laced ejaculate, the not really mulatto turned to run away. unluckily for him, it was not to be, as he tripped over the jew. tbhwk leaped into the air and sexually assaulted him. poor guy, i thought, as i watched silently, having experienced this sort of behavior from tbhwk the previous weekend. and the weekend before that. in fact, every weekend as long as i had know tbhwk, she had pulled this shit. it was getting kind of repetitive. but hey, we don’t call her the biggest ho we know for no reason. having just passed the clap onto the not really mulatto, tbhwk pulled her panties back up and sat down on the barstool next to me. i looked around the room. all the horny male immigrants had massive wood and were very much expecting tbhwk to remedy that situation for them. looking back at me, realizing what she had to do now, she reflected on the monkey. and the jew. and the not really mulatto. unleashing a stupid giggle, she took a shot, slammed the shot glass down on the bar, and looked me dead in the eyes. i could feel a burn in my urethra. before proceeding to suck off each of these immigrants, she said to me, “well, that was a bad decision”.

 

the night of the blizzard…in my pants (part 1)

i hate these bitches. here i am, the only penis in this car, and i got these three bitches with me. whenever i’m with them, all i smell is rank vag. it’s like i just stepped into a brothel. located in vietnam. during nam. except this time, they’re crying like they just lost their virginity. except they didn’t. that event is ancient history. like nam. who are these hos? well, they just happen to be my bffs, “bitches for-f’n-ever”. i don’t roll anywhere without them, partly because i love the stank, and partly cuz there is always a good story whenever we get together. tonight just happened to be a doozy, because as luck would have it, each of these bitches turned in a classic.

we’re making this treacherous trip to some dump in western ny. we get there finally, but the damn wheel fell off my car while we were driving through guess what? a blizzard! we managed to survive that catastrophe, but not before my eardrums are damaged forever from the sound of these bitches screaming their heads off because a) they thought they were gonna die, or b) they thought they were pregnant. either way, same sound. so we are there for some show. we get there, do our thing, peace out, and get ready for the main event…the afterparty. we go back to the hotel, transfer the drinks from their bottles to our bodies, and get on the bus to the party downtown. on the bus, the terrible three make a pact to makeout with someone, with bonus points awarded to whoever dry humped. so we all roll up the club and everyone stops dead in their tracks. the legends have arrived. mind you, we are not legendary for what we do on the stage, but for the shenanigans that go down after stage time. these people are legit shocked and awed by our actions, and yet this only feeds our desire to engage in even more immoral, unchaste, unbridled debauchery. that, my friends, is where the stories begin. 

first up we got the bbc, the big brown cunt. why is that her name? well, i looked, and its a true fact. so this bitch has a fetish for mildly attractive ivy leaguers who can dance mildly well. because she’s mildly a slut. and by mildly a slut, i mean paris hilton. of course, this bitch uses her wily ways and lures some poor, unsuspecting fellow to fall prey to her wanton flirtations. alas, this was during this slut-in-training’s initiation process, so at this moment in time, she is somewhat unfamiliar to how the game is to be played at these aftershow orgies. her prey happens to be unattractive. short. dark. cocky. where such ugly looking guys develop these charming characteristics, i just don’t know. although, for this ho, it was a killer combo. fo sho. ya know? oh bro. nonetheless, they start getting their grind on for a good 3 hours, and i just look on in shame because this bitch is doing it all wrong. but cut the ho some slack, she is a silly freshmen as compared to her more experienced comrades in vag. they are grinding away for what seems like an eternity, and the guy, a senior to be noted, is getting impatient, because, as the great k. west would say, “if you fuckin’ with this girl/then you betta be paid/you know why/take too much to touch her”. clearly, he wanted to up the ante as soon enough, all the first gen immigrants were about to get booted from the club. so he lures her to some secluded corner of this giant ass dungeon ass club and the make out has begun. it was not a good scene, as let us not forget, she is no pro yet. also to be noted, she was waste case, but alas, he was as sober as a mormon with 6 wives and 27 children. realizing her failings at the game called “sexy time”, she pulls away and shows off her speciality. being awkward. bitch makes up some bs excuse about catching up with her friends slash going to the bathroom slash slashing her wrists because the event was that awful. realizing that he had been trying to take advantage of an underage, super lame-o starts apologizing, but because this bitch is outta control and has no tact and lacks decent social skills, she legit exits the dance floor with no further words exchanged. she runs to the bar and proudly exclaimed that she had accomplished her goal. imagine how proud her parents would have been to witness this spectacle and ensuing announcement. two seconds later, the guy walks by the bar on his way out of the scene with his short dark chums, and straight ignores her. i look over and realized she has died inside. not a little bit. a lotta bit. she looks back at me and says, “well, that was a bad decision”. 

 

the lebanese jew…

as told by the big brown cunt…

so this bitch, big ass wali, waits all week for this party on friday night. why? because its a god damn beach party. in upstate ny. in march. who the hell had the brilliant idea to have a beach party in march in upstate ny? anyways, she super excited for this beach party. why? because the bitch is the biggest ho we know. fo sho. so we go to the mall beforehand to get some “i want ass” clothes. why? because big ass wali wants some ass. so what does she end up doing? bitch ends up dropping a benji on slutty ass clothes. mind you, we were planning to spend at most $4 from the clearance rack at forever 21. this bitch bought everything from a new bra, some heels, a thong for that big ass, and then some. her goal for her outfit? to be, as they lamely say, “decked out”. and of course, to get some ass. and what color did she pick? why surprise surprise! that gay ass teal that she adores so much.

so we finally leave the cess pool known as the mall, and get back to our place. bitch showers and starts her ritual process of grooming her big ass butt. this process takes on average, 6 hours. our new bitch friend fran, joins us wearing an equally revealing beach towel dress function. meanwhile, i’m standing here, looking at what the shite these bitches are wearing. i was not familiar with the fabrics these girls were wearing; i think it was some new creation called ultimate whore. then they put on their faces, and the shots begin. and things start to get messy like pigpen. then, our ride appears. and the fuzziness kicks in a bit, but lo and beho, we have arrived at the beach party. in upstate ny. in march. 

so we arrive, and of course, since we look like total sluts, there is no cover, no charge, booya. whoever said there is no such thing as a free drink has a penis. or is just really fugly. so we walk in and its jello shots, beer, vodka galore, and big ass wali is going crazy. something that i noticed while these two bitches were going crazy was that no one else had decided to follow the beach theme. people were in legit sweaters. with a turtleneck. and cable knitting. so this bitch is getting her drink on when she spots a small ethnic looking fellow near the beer pong table. and i’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that it was like lake erie in big ass wali’s bikini bottoms. bitch turns to her wing bitch fran and notifies her that she has located her prey. slut mode…engaged. slut 1 and slut 2 get to work. slut 2 works her magic, aka bends over, and the boy follows her back to slut 1. unfortunately, it was the wrong small ethnic looking fellow. 

we were surrounded by them. the wrong small ethnic looking fellows. they were like cockroaches. except without the cock. i, being the only rational person in this situation, let the guy know he was a mistake. like the child of a pair of 12 year olds. but alas, guys at these kinds of galas are pretty persistent and overlook rejection fairly easily, and he hung around like herpes. so what do slut 1 and slut 2 decide to do then? get some more drinks in them. as they pour shot number 10, and i mentally prepare for a night of taking care of a double alcohol poisoning, the correct ethnic midget walks over with his ugly posse and asks me where i’m from. because i’m secretly ashamed of admitting my true background, i respond with a vague, “south asia”. he quickly responds with a, “oh shit, i had a bet going on with my vile friend that you were either from india or italy! i’m from lebanon!”. fake laughter ensued and i wanted to remove them from my sphere, so i pushed them over to big ass wali, who wanted nothing more than to suck his dick at that very moment. so, unfortunately for me, we all chat and pretend to be friends, and find out he goes to med school with my cousin, so we bond over this mutual person. and of course, he is being uber creepy. uber touchy feely. uber annoying. so i uber remove myself from the sitcho.

time passes, and we all become a little more tipsy because of the abundance of free liquor. time is wasted talking to more lame-os. but the time has come for me to use the facilities. as i make my way towards the std infested bathroom, i stop dead in my tracks. blocking the door to the bathroom is my slut number 1. pushed up against the door. with a leg wrapped around a small ethnic herpes sore. making out. hardxxxcore. it was like a bad porno. it was vile. it was disgusting. but could i look away? the answer to that, is a resounding no. taking a second to think, i realized something: as slut 1 was in a position where she was getting over a tough breakup, i felt perhaps this rebound therapy would be good medicine. but, i really needed to pee, so something needed to happen. thankfully, they were so engrossed in each others’ mouths that they kindly rolled along the wall, freeing the bathroom door for my use. life was good. the night eventually winds down and we leave.

we get dropped off in front of our dorm. big ass wali starts bitching and bitching about wanting to go to her ex-bf’s room. and i’m like “bitch, are you stupid in the head, get up to your room”. and she’s like, “i really miss him, i wanna see him, blah blah, suck his dick”. and then, i bitch slap that ho. i tell her, “you just made out with a lebanese jew, why do you want to see him?”. she stops her emotions like she just got bitch slapped, which she did. she looks at me with these big doe eyes in disbelief. “he was jewish?” she asks. i am 100% certain she died a little bit after discovering his affinity for the torah. but then, i’m like “you just dated a muslim! it’s basically the same shit, no bacon either way”. realizing the errors of her ways, big ass wali took a step back, wiped her eyes, and replied, “well, that was a bad decision”.