“In the same night I got touched up by a 17 year old, saw a girl chun in a bar, met America’s worst comedian and danced with the world’s sweatiest man.”
21-year-old writer giving you that witty prose with a dash of Essex sass.
We snuck out through the back. We’d just had a lovely night together aside from the stalker, everything was fine right? NO, again, no. While your princess (me) was asleep the tinder man sent me these messages…
I saw some old woman, (who I’m going to say was at least 80) ride down Bourbon Street in a people bike wearing nothing but a bra and skirt blasting out ‘Move Bitch Get Out the Way’.
People had scooters, bikes, others were simply running for their lives with one guy screaming to his friend in a higher pitch than most little girls, “I CAN’T RUN IN THESE SHOES”.
A word to describe Nashville? Fun. Two words? Guiltless fun.
Even in the bouji-est of yaaassss queen bouji places it was happening…
Have you ever been driven around by a stranger in a convertible whose front is held together with a massive chain? Have you ever spent the night on a citrus farm in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever slept with an infestation of spiders above your head? If you want all this and more, go to the ol’ UC Berkeley friends.
Everybody gathered round waiting for the momentous occasion of opening the box. The man opened the box and the animals attacked.
…one of the first things someone said to them was ‘Y’all foreigners aren’t ya?’ Followed by, ‘So how much American pussy have y’all got?’
I’m going to tell you what happened from a student’s perspective. From an honest and real perspective.