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sweet dee drops knowledge all over everybody's ass.

wrap your minds around this.

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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fat kids are not cute.

Motivated by Michelle Obama’s website on simple changes that can lead to weight loss (and an overall healthier lifestyle – I haven’t read it, but i’m sure it says that in the tagline), I’ve decided to drop a little knowledge on my fan base about how to not be fat (do as I say, not as I do).

10. Order a diet coke as opposed to regular to accompany your loaded nachos or philly cheesesteak (or both).

9. Instead of that triple cheeseburger for lunch, do the master cleanse for a week.

8. Drink light beer, well, unless you’re trying to get drunk.

7. Get liposuction, or even better, get that surgery where they shrink your stomach, and you’ll die if you eat too much.

6. Order a parasite online.  Pricy but effective.  (I just made myself rull sick trying to find a good website for purchasing, but i do know they cost about 2,000 dollars, and if you don’t remember to kill/remove your tapeworm, it can grow up to 6 feet long).

5. Get pregant.  Sure, you’ll gain weight for a bit, but it will be justified and breastfeeding helps you lose weight like woah, or so I’ve heard.

good for your baby.

4. Stop eating altogether.  Will be tough, but worth it in the long run.  Well, until your body can no longer sustain itself and then you’re dead.

3. Develop a cocaine addiction.  Slimming and makes you more interesting to others. Win win.

2. Always carry around an ice block, at 228 calories a bottle you can’t afford to be caught off-guard.

get iced, bitch.

1. Maybe don’t eat the KFC double down chicken sandwich or fried oreos.  Instead of a 2 liter of Mt. Dew, try juice, water, maybe even milk (it’s good for your bones).  Stop playing World of Warcraft all day and give the Wii a try, the real fatties should stay away from Mario Olympics because it’s known to cause injury (talking about you, Splodges), or get rull crazy and go outside.  Gawed, America, what the fuck.

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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Americans are idiots.  Like seriously, fucking idiots.  Maybe it’s just because I’ve been in a terrible mood (most likely due to the fact that I haven’t been keeping up with running, drinking, or any of my other go-to activities for stress release or the fact that I actually have the plague),  but I’ve seen a record amount of fritattaness, and I RULLY need to rant.

Patriotism. TO THE MAX.

gawed, republicans are the worst.

I absolutely can’t stand when people – whether or not they have any idea what they’re talking about – go on and on about how if someone has a problem with something in our country, then they can GEEEET OUT.  Isn’t that the fucking point of America?  To have the freedom (keyword) to have our own opinions about things? Admittedly, i’m not super patriotic.  Not like I hate Amurica, per se, I just think that when people adorn themselves in red, white, and blue paraphernalia they look ridiculous (and not in a good way).  Believe me, I’m very happy to have been born in Southwestern Virgina and been provided all the opportunities that come with the “American Dream” (college education, clean water, network television), but that doesn’t mean I have to use a flag as a throw blanket or set off fireworks from my balcony.  Or does it?  Maybe I just don’t know the rules.

How’s that gon’ ‘fect mai internets?

Seriously?  Seriously.  Why are the citizens of South Arlington so extremely incompetent?  I legit had to listen to a woman  complain to the guy at Best Buy about how she couldn’t get the anti-virus software to work on her off-brand laptop.  From what I could deduce, she was attempting to use a stolen disc, and didn’t understand that you also needed the license, which makes more sense than the fact that she also didn’t understand why having a wireless password was a good idea, “they think dey gon’ steal mai internets?”  You can’t make this shit up.  The only thing that made this event at all worth it (besides the fact that I laugh out loud everytime I think of the women wearing pajamas in BB at 5:30 PM) is that I somehow ended up with a brand new camera, because the frittatas at BB lost my broken one after calling to tell me they wouldn’t be replacing it due to water damage not being covered by my warranty.  (I then dropped said brand new camera in a sink full of soapy water at Mcfadden’s not 3 days later, but that’s besides the point, and it still works).

I don’t know what language that is, but it definitely translates to douche.

Nothing is douchier than a bad tattoo (or an Armani Exchange shirt that makes you look like peter pan.  Hm.  Or Smirnoff Ice, but that’s douchy in a bro way).  Recently read an exchange on my news feed.  I’ve paraphrased:

Douche #1: I’ve put this as my status, because I know that everyone I’m “friends” with cares a lot about my life, and this event is important to me: Getting a tattoo, but I’m not sure what I want yet.

Douche #2: Well you shouldn’t get one unless you’re certain it’s not gonna make you look like a complete jackass.

Douche #1: LOL. LMFAO. I’ve wanted one for a long time. Just can’t decide between a couple of ideas.

Douche #2: Oh. Ok. Good luck 🙂

Douche #3: I just got a tattoo of my birth sign, chicks dig it.

Me: that is the most original tattoo idea I’ve ever heard. to think. only the nations population divided by 12 share the same birth sign. I hope you got it on your bicep.

It’s not lying if I’m only doing it because it’s easier for me than telling the truth.

Why do some people lie for absolutely no reason?  I mean.  Okay.  Every now and then I tell little white lies when it gets me out of a huge unnecessary explanation of something to my mom (ex. danny not telling his mom that he had actually not checked whether or not we were allowed to have a grill on our balcony before buying one – spoiler alert: we’re not) or having to go on a date with a creeper (ex. “sorry, I’m a lesbian”), but I’m talking about when people just straight up lie.  As I feel I’m not a terrible (and by terrible I mean, not terrible in this regard) person, I don’t really see the motivation behind doing this,  but I’ve come up with some potential reasons:

1. Person needs everyone to like him/her, so instead of telling the truth in cases where it may result in even the tiniest bit of disdain from the receiving party, person tells a lie, and receiver is happy, well until they inevitably find out the truth.

2. Person doesn’t understand the difference between reality and web of lies invented within person’s head.  Not person’s fault.

3. Person has no respect for other persons feelings; Person is selfish.

4. Person is a lawyer, car salesman, or recent president.

5. Person knows more than me about how to cultivate successful relationships, and maybe I should start lying more.  Perhaps person is currently ranting about how it’s weird when other persons tell the truth all the time for seemingly no reason.

Go home, grandpa.

Seriously? Who gave this guy a license??

Remember that time when old people were cute?  Like when they couldn’t drive or understand technology or how much things cost?  NO.  It has come to my attention that the majority of old people (my grandparents excluded, because they are super self-sufficient, capable drivers, and know more about technology than me – not saying a lot, because I’m a girl, but still) are dangers to society.  Over the past week I’ve seen the guy from the tales from the crypt running more than one redlight, comin’ innnn to my lane OBLIVIOUS to me, and driving wrong way on a one way street (which we all know is only appropriate under the most special of circumstances).  I feel like it’d be hard to convince the government that we should start practicing senilicide like in the good old days, but is it too much to ask that perhaps we have license renewal tests after a certain age.  You know, just to make sure gramps can still operate the steering wheel, or understand the difference between drive, reverse, and the parking break?

I’m a terrible person.  It’s a wonder the 3 of you that read this are my friends.

Peace out bitches,

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he's gettin that.

Good for the Wizards. At least they won something, and, not gonna lie, I’ve been looking for a reason to get on board with a DC-based team (plus I already have a Wizards fitted), and the other alternatives can’t/won’t do:


Seriously???  Like, seriously??  DC’s one “claim to fame” (as far as sports go – I mean, we have Wale) gets out there and just fucks it up.  For some reason I can’t get on  board with hockey.  I mean.  I like the guys fighting each other?  But, overall, any game that involves very few scores, yet lots of back and forth is rull boring (sorry, soccer).


Actually looking better this season, probably because they were finally able to scrounge up enough money to pay for their number one draft pick, but regardless, baseball still bores me, I’m in love with Kevin Youkilis, and I know who pitches for the Reds.  I’ll definitely go to a game with the work tickets though, because who doesn’t like to sit outside and jeer at players while having beer brought to your seat?


EW.  Mcnabb is a cute old man though, so I’ll go to a game or two. (cheering for the Viqueens and the Giants, of course).


Eh. I mean, they’re an American soccer team, but the games are pretty awesome to go to (mostly because they’re cheap and the Screaming Eagles are probably the most entertaining fans ever – besides the Hokies’ ones of course), and soccer boys are RULL hot.

the one.

As I hung my Gilbert Arenas mask on my bulletin board in my new room (which is beyond amazing, by the way, although it is probably best suited for a child between the age of 4 and 10 that wishes she lived in the land before time and/or very much needs a fairy princess jewelry box), I remembered the good days, when the Wizards looked like they had a chance to obtain mediocrity, at the least.  But, big surprise – I was let down, because silly ‘bert decided to bring MULTIPLE guns to store in the locker room and then, instead of apologizing and acting mature with regards to the situation, pretended to shoot all of his teammates and had them fall backwards in a pre-game cheer.  (I would LOVE to have a picture of this as a poster, so uh, yeah, if you’re one of the one people that reads this, get me that please, kthxbai).  So, bert is out, sentenced to I don’t even remember like ah day in prison and some time in a halfway house?  Don’t know.  Don’t care.  The Wizards finish out their season almost dead last (luckily the nets set the bar pretty low).  But with a 10.7% chance, the Wizards’ luck turned around as they won the 1st draft pick in the lottery.  Barring Michael Jordan busting in and drafting Kwame 2.0, John Wall is most likely going to be trekking up to DC.

I don’t know if I’m more excited for the team having potential (Wall + Arenas  is gonna be TIGHT), or just the fact that ERRYBODY in DC is going to do the John Wall next season, but I plan on obtaining a majority of my work’s courtside tickets so that I can participate (and try to touch kobe, kwame, paul pierce, and NOT lebron james).  Hopefully the creepers that get the seats next to us move or get tired of basketball and start following alternative sports, otherwise I’m always going to have to take faux-boyfriends as dates (my little brother didn’t help AT ALL), because i’m really not trying to get sexually propositioned again.  When the time comes, I’ll post a bodyguard sign-up sheet or something.

Peace out bitches,

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As most of you know, I’m very fashionable (and this will eventually lead to me spending the rest of my life with my soul mate – purple tie – if we ever find each other again).  I also have some pretty strong opinions with regards to what other people are wearing.  Yeah, I’m extremely hypocritical.
<ASIDE>   I feel like ranting.  I really hate “forced” anything – forced fun, such as theme parks, any type of tour (wine tasting, sight seeing, the fucking zoo), forced friendships, “okay, just because you’re my boyfriend’s sister/ brother’s girlfriend doesn’t mean we’re going to get along.  I mean, come on, a sorostitute/ actually a prostitute, really?!”  Forced holidays, for example, New Year’s Eve and Halloween are two of the biggest let downs, because who really needs an excuse to drink a shit ton of Andre or dress in a slutty outfit and call it a “costume.”  (that being said, New Year’s Eve is still my favorite holiday, I just need to celebrate it multiple times a year).   Getting to the point, and my pet peeve of the day, theme parties – forced dress-up.   I hate these, not at all because I don’t want to dress up, obviously I do, but because I want to dress how I want to dress, not to have to clothe myself while keeping in mind a specific theme my outfit should adhere to (of course the theme parties I will be throwing in the near future, ANTMPBE and jorts and jorties will be fucking awesome, but that doesn’t really apply here).  I think from now on I will dress opposite the pre-designated themes for theme parties, and maybe even attend standard parties/bars/clubs dressed as my own “theme” TBD when I’m wasted. </ASIDE>

And now what all 2-3 of you have been waiting for.  I’ve compiled some dos and don’ts for those of you less (can I use blessed here? yeah, I think I can) blessed in the fashionista department.


DO: be from canada

DON'T: be from southwestern virginia


DO: be a bad ass.

DON'T: be a douchebag


DO: be a snookie

DON'T: be a fat italian


DO: obvi.

DON'T: just don't.


DO: be a lesbian that looks like justin bieber

DON'T: be justin bieber


DO: be a faux animal.

DON'T: be something I want to eat.

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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