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sweet dee drops knowledge all over everybody's ass.

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Category Archives: i thought there’d be chocolate

I can’t compete with, nor do I intend to, but while both searching for a new desktop background and trying to not get flagged for pornography more than my  usual amount of times per day, I realized that assembling an easily accessible collection of my favorite bodies would be a worthwhile venture.



shoebox calves, chestnut brown skin

brady quinn

So hot. I almost feel bad that delhomo took his spot on the browns and now he has to contend with tebow on the broncs. He can come play for the panthers any day.




robert buckley

slightly less hot after finding out that he dated whitney from the city/ hills.

I take it back. He's still amazing.

the one.

brad pitt

crazy really does it for me. and sex muscles.



and he t-norts? game over.


I bet he likes trees, too.


I also like his shoes.



super hot, decent at soccer, AND he sells hats.

heather mitts

she'd be ten times hotter if natasha kai would gift her one or two of her tattoos. (not the leg one though - not cute).

handanovic: slovenian keeper

errybody wants some.

other sports.


RULL hot, especially for being a baseball player.

i'll be putting in for tigers tickets, immediately.

patrick cote

I'm actually surprised how hard it was to find a hot fighter. I mean. They never wear shirts, and usually have the sickest tattoos. Cote wins, diego sanchez and silva were close.

christopher lukezic

sometimes I forget how hot runners are, especially the RULL fast ones.

I wonder how many porn hits I just got? I’m getting fired for real.

Peace out bitches,


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i don't even like cats.

Why is everyone, and by everyone, I mean all my facebook friends from high school/ some college that I don’t ever talk to, either married or with child(s)?  I feel like I’m missing something.  Should I too be meeting my soulmate, getting engaged, and having babies (not necessarily, or likely, in that order)?  Let’s do some math.

I’m 22 (nearly 23).  I assume that once I meet a potential mr. right (minimum qualifications: hot, straight, tall, not a douche, from Delaware, or a Jets’ fan), I’m going to want at least 1.5 to 2 years to decide if I can put up with the person long term.  Then, as my wedding will be spectacular (spoiler alert: my dress will be green and if I can afford nothing else i’ll have an extensive open bar), I’ll need a decent amount of time to plan (I love planning).  Then there’s the whole having children part, which, if I didn’t have such amazing genes, I would save some time and just stick with my previous plan of adoption, but that’s another 9 months + conceiving, which with the fact that I’ve been on bc for forever may be near impossible.  If my math is correct (unlikely as I’m a girl)  it seems that if I want to have any semblance of a family (me + danny and a dog doesn’t count) by the time I’m 28 (ohmigod, ancient), I’ll need to have either already met my appropriate male/female (not ready to rule out that possibility) counterpart, or do so before my next birthday.  Which gives me 2 months and 6 days to review all past guy friendships/more-than-friendships, as well as meet as many new potentials as possible, before I’m metaphorically “dried up.”

Gawed. This sounds like far too much work for the summer, so I think I’ll just stick to the naive school of thought that includes “everything happens for a reason,” “it’ll all come out in the wash,” and “fuck bitches, get money.”  Plus, planning ahead is for nubs.  I’m 22 – just a baby.  I’ll do what I want.

I have a number of faux-boyfriends currently, but as none of them have graduated past the nickname stage (range rover eddie, new zealand ben, baseball/soccer/tennis boyfriend, splodges), I’m technically single.  And i’m content with this.  Summer is the time for laying out, drinking, playing frisbee, getting got, icing, swimming, and making money, not the time for being a girlfriend.  Also, I think my deal breaker list has grown so long, that I may never find a potential mate that fits all of the necessary requirements.  Maybe once I get rull rich I’ll just hire the millionaire matchmaker to do the work for me, but until then, probs just gonna keep acting like i’m still in college, dressing like a cartoon and attracting old men and douchebags, all while fantasizing about adrian peterson.


The only good thing about everyone but me falling in love is all of the weddings. I love weddings.  And I plan to finagle invites to and/or crash at least 3 this summer.  I already have the perfect dress.  Consider yourselves warned.

Peace out bitches,

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On the eve of my one year singleversary, I would like to take a moment to remember some of the hi (and lo) lights of my first year in the “real” world.

– My first work happy hour: discovering CCR and drinking 13 Blue Moons (hardly compares to Micah’s 17 guinni) on a Wednesday.

– My 22nd birthday: running barefoot around Adams Morgan (jumbo slice in hand) screaming the lyrics of “birthday sex”

– Wildwood (except for the dirty Jersey part): cock block, my pail, eating fried oreos, and passing out in the grass in front of MTDs house with the captain of the UVA team before waking up to break in and climb in the middle of Hodges, Grace, and Kyle on the fold out couch. Oh yeah, and how good Andy and I are at beer pong.

– Kid Cudi, Tegan and Sara, and Jack’s Mannequin concerts.

– Mastering staffs, you got got, laser tag, pong ball golf, and Candyland.

ice in my veins.

– UVA: Four loko, and that time that Danny was rull Jewish and couldn’t be bothered to get us breakfast.  The birth of Humphrey.  Oh yeah, and WM won.

– That time Danny and I were engaged until it was no longer convenient for him, and then I was widowed.  The time we went to the emergency room.  The time that Danny thought the lyrics were, “fuck you like and electric eel.”  The time Amy couldn’t be bothered to wake up for anything.  The time the tro was for poor people.  The time we got roofied and the time there was a kidnapping.

– Homecoming: serenading Ludwell.  Hodges pissing himself and then saving a plant.

– Nats, Wizards, Redskins, Panthers.

– Thanksgiving, wing week, ludacrismas.

frittatas need love too.

– New Year’s Eve: Avatar, Wii games, multiple viewings of Inglorious Bastards, and the birth of Trotsky.

– New Year’s Eve part 2: white trash and the reincarnation of the beer bong.

– Burtassic park and the time I ran a 5k wearing Richard Hamilton’s headband and Tree wore a face shirt.

– Theme parties: ugly sweaters, Dexter, ABC, bar golf, Jersey shore, and Would you still be my friend if I wore this?

– Miami: 5 star hotel, open bars, and Dan passed in the pool.

– NSB: the time I should have died 3-4 times, beach cruisers, Aspen and Amy, ciddling, the garlic.


– Virginia Beach: becoming Aspen (one headband, plaid shirt, beach cruiser, and pair of vans at a time), three way relationships, orange crushes, new awesome friends.

Hm.  That list was longer than intended, and I left out a decent amount of the earlier and the most recent stuff, because I was tired of remembering, but I’ve had quite the year since college graduation and immediate entree into the world of 9 to 5s, happy hours, and business casual dress code. And now it’s over.

I’m a big fan of fresh starts.

Year 2 is looking pretty amazing.  I’m moving in with Danny this weekend in the most baller apartment I’ve ever seen.  I have the majority of my weekends for the next three months planned out (I love planning!!)  Hodges and Tree will be visiting in all of their spare time.  I start grad school in the fall (guarantee I’m the only white girl, not racist/sexist, just true).  Not to mention, I have another whole (oh yes, I did almost type ‘awholenother’) season of football coming up, and we all know that the Matt Moore era will not disappoint.  I am most excited to celebrate my versary tomorrow with Amy, as we raise our glasses to the usual toast, “boys suck,” and I can evening-dream about all of the amazing things that are bound to happen to me in year dos (win the lottery, huge promotion, get mono and lose 20 pounds, marry astronaut mike dexter, etc.)

Dear future (celebrating her 2 year singleversary) SD,

Don’t you dare own a cat or a snuggie.


Current (not quite yet an old maid, although according to hodges it may already be too late for you and if you’re trying to ever have children, you better start now, or else just give up and begin a long life of alcoholism and loneliness) SD

This went from blog post to diary entry within the first 2 lines. I’m sorry? I love you?

Peace out bitches,

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