June 23, 2011

This makes me so excited, says Andrea as she holds up the credit card with a personalized Detroit Pistons logo on it. She is just another person who likes Detroit sports, I assume. Or, as I’ve learned over the years, a girl from a suburb of Detroit who pretends to like sports so boys from other Detroit suburbs will notice her. 

Yeah, Pistons. Woo-hoo. I try to muster up some hometown pride but I obviously fail to care about national associations of anything athletic. I totally boned a Piston, like, four hours ago. 

You what? 

I boned a Piston. He had no hair and no eyebrows, but he was sexy in a way. Powerful, you know?

I pretend to know how a powerful guy with no hair and no eyebrows can be sexy, but, truthfully, I don’t really get it.

Andrea is a hot girl. Not a pretty girl, but a hot one. She wears too much eye makeup. She has a fake tan. She always straightens her dyed hair. She mentioned to me, in passing, that she has a child but has clarified many times that she knows how attractive she is. I can’t help it, you know? 

I guess I kind of know. 

Other women talk about Andrea behind her back. It’s really easy to see through her. I mean, you can tell how insecure she really is.

I know this could definitely be true. I also know that women who are the most insecure are the ones who point out others’ weaknesses without being asked. 

He told me I was the hottest white girl he’d ever slept with. 

So you had a good time? 

Oh yeah. He was big. He was big everywhere. 

2:04am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZnSAKx6MRclI
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