Comments:

Bud Frump's Boss - 2007-06-07 01:47:12
It warms the very cockles of my heart to see you covered in your own blood. Does that make me bad?...Nah.
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B - 2007-06-07 06:55:02
Awwww, frond. You're a woman now. Congratulations!
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MOnique - 2007-06-07 08:52:01
waaaaay too bloody. gross and disgusting. no one wants to see that. perhaps jumping directly into the shower would have been a good idea...just a thought.
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Precious Foy - 2007-06-07 09:15:17
In one of the bloody hand photos it looks like you have muppet hands. Nice hands muppet hands.
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Ambassador Shabs - 2007-06-07 10:11:24
I once woke up in my bed 'the next morning' covered in glitter. Which, if i had to choose, is much better than blood. Why you ask? It all started w/ a 40oz in the back of a theatre, which led to another 6 pack in a gay bar, which led to a fat black drag queen shoving his hand down my pants while I posed for cell phone pictures. I can't really get into specifics right now, but I eventually dumped whomever I was kissing (not the fat black drag queen), only to find my belongings in a dark corner covered in glitter from the two 'glitter boys', shall we say...doin' it...on top of my bag. I yelped, grabbed my bag and headed home. leaving a rainbow trail of glitter from door to door. I'm still cleansing from that one.
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ahm an athlete - 2007-06-07 21:07:12
I woke up on a kitchen floor wearing an LHS cheerleading T and mysterious PJ pants. Guava juice not the best remedy for an upset stomach.
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Derek Lowe - 2007-06-08 07:56:01
After an extended drinking binge, I once woke up with a wife andchildren.....
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jason - 2007-06-09 16:37:44
C'mon now Zache, your goin at this thing from completely the wrong angle. Let's face it, turkey sandwiches and blood are part of life. Does it really matter how or why or where or sponged up by what and who's wearing that german corset and how did my windows end up on the ground three stories down on the dorm lawn and whats that delicious wafting smell and who are these strange denizens huddled in yurts playing gypsy music and shifting every time I try to focus on them and why am I wearing an obviously female shirt that's way too big for me and why would I choose to peacefully slumber on a kitchen table as opposed to say my bed not fifteen feet away or what caused me to temporarily lose sight in one eye or what would have possesed me to shave my legs or how did this Dionysian wreath of laurels find itself resting not on my head but doubling as a loin cloth as apparently all other garb was otherwise occupied not clothing me? The answer is no. None these questions matter. Turkey sandwiches and blood are part of life and seeing as how this is my first written missive in the diary land of the Great Zache', I'd like it titled. The only stipulation is that you choose the title without using the letters R E B or S. A good day to you sir
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Kate - 2007-06-09 19:18:45
Ok here's the thing, I have several to choose from in a pretty extensive list of drunken tomfoolery such as...waking up in a dorm room on the floor of someone's room I didn't know with either a large glass of water dumped on my lap or I had an "accident" in my drunken coma, hopping in a car with two people I didn't know and driving an hour and fifteen minutes to a bar in Jersey that I knew I couldn't get into due to them scanning ID's and I had a very bad fake ID only to join a house party where I passed out on a more than questionably stained mattress upstairs and then ran puking down their 70's carpeted hallway and woke up the next day to a room full of Jersey Shore boys one of which was a UNH football player, having a Dominican boat boy have to carry me off the booze cruise catamaran because I was so drunk I couldn't get out myself and then going back to the resort and joined into a salsa dancing lesson, or my continuous attempt to eat a burrito on the walk home from Portsmouth to Kittery and throwing a half eaten burrito over the Memorial bridge only to cry about it ten minutes later, no closer to home, hungry and cold. BUT the best drunken memory/non-memory that I have is during my freshman year at UNH when I got up to go the bathroom and went down the hall (I lived in the middle of the hallway), went to the bathroom, walked all the way to the end of the hallway, entered someone else's room that lived by themselves and had several empty pizza boxes in there, passed out on a mattress while I was being told that I was in the wrong room, woke up a little later on, took the girls nubby Adidas sandals, went to the bathroom again, and then went back to my own room to pass out and wake up the next morning to find a note on my door asking for the sandals back, and being the nice person that I am chucked them down the hallway and avoid her for the remainder of the year. We will call this girl Kitty. That is not her name. I was mortified for about 6 months and my roommate would occasionally run down to her room and knock on the door and ask for a slice of pizza or to borrow her sandals just to make the situation worse. And the more I think about it, the less convinced I am that I was drunk and more convinced that I was just really tired and sleep walking.
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Z - 2007-06-10 20:54:49
Jason, I can't decide whether to title your comment "Serbs" or "Beers". Oh wait, I don't think I followed directions . . .
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