Dude, I’m telling you—I wrecked so many chicks in high school. But I got not a lick of poon last weekend. What the hell is wrong with these Notre Dame ice queens?
No joke, I must’ve slain an average of three bitties a month back in high school. I don’t know if they just loved the Bri-meister’s dongle or if it was something in the Cali water, but my pussy magnet is no longer operational.
Case in point. This one girl on Friday was absolutely tanked, and she said she wanted to come back to good ol’ 126 Sorin to look at my DVD collection. I know, right? That’s code for “Do me.” But no. She saw my copy of The Life Aquatic and started talking about how much she loved Wes Anderson. She bolted at midnight and said we should meet for dinner at SDH some time. What the fuck?! I was expecting at least a beej.
The Huddle might as well have a two-for-one deal on Jergens and Kleenex. God, I can’t wait ‘til fall break.
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