a few weeks ago this boy is at my house, and he asks to use my computer to look something up. “sure, no problem,” i say nonchalantly as i get up from the couch in the living room to grab the computer from my bed. however, as soon as i am behind the door in my room, i start more or less hyperventilating as i enter code red panic mode thinking about how i am going to hide the massive amount of incriminating evidence in my browser history. i open the computer, and his exgirlfriend’s instagram pops up as literally my most visited site, and that’s not all, i’ve got her mylife page, resume, google map of her address in case i feel like taking this stalking irl, plus facebook accounts of any girl he followed on insta for the last month. levels of surveillance that would completely blow a boy’s mind and send him straight for a restraining order. not to mention extremely embarrassing searches like “odds of getting chlamydia from one sexual encounter” and “get rid of excess body hair” and “real world road rules challenge spoilers 2014.” i frantically try deleting my history and it is taking so long that he actually comes in the room to see what i’m doing and i have to abandon my efforts and open the firefox browser i hardly ever use and hope for the best. as soon as he leaves a few hours later, i check firefox to see if it had exposed me for anything mortifying, and it seemed mostly clear except i somehow have the videos for five-when the lights go out, and la bouche- be my lover favorited on the top of the page?? no idea. i’m guessing he won’t be inviting me to any concerts anytime soon after seeing the music i apparently have on hand for constant access to 90s jams, but if that’s the worst he saw, it’s fine with me.

a few weeks ago this boy is at my house, and he asks to use my computer to look something up. “sure, no problem,” i say nonchalantly as i get up from the couch in the living room to grab the computer from my bed. however, as soon as i am behind the door in my room, i start more or less hyperventilating as i enter code red panic mode thinking about how i am going to hide the massive amount of incriminating evidence in my browser history. i open the computer, and his exgirlfriend’s instagram pops up as literally my most visited site, and that’s not all, i’ve got her mylife page, resume, google map of her address in case i feel like taking this stalking irl, plus facebook accounts of any girl he followed on insta for the last month. levels of surveillance that would completely blow a boy’s mind and send him straight for a restraining order. not to mention extremely embarrassing searches like “odds of getting chlamydia from one sexual encounter” and “get rid of excess body hair” and “real world road rules challenge spoilers 2014.” i frantically try deleting my history and it is taking so long that he actually comes in the room to see what i’m doing and i have to abandon my efforts and open the firefox browser i hardly ever use and hope for the best. as soon as he leaves a few hours later, i check firefox to see if it had exposed me for anything mortifying, and it seemed mostly clear except i somehow have the videos for five-when the lights go out, and la bouche- be my lover favorited on the top of the page?? no idea. i’m guessing he won’t be inviting me to any concerts anytime soon after seeing the music i apparently have on hand for constant access to 90s jams, but if that’s the worst he saw, it’s fine with me.

the cutest old man ever painting at echo park lake

the cutest old man ever painting at echo park lake

yes i would love to fly home to chicago for my ten year high school anniversary at rainforest cafe in a mall. i can have awkward conversations with people who i never liked with to begin with over planet earth pasta as the fake rainstorm rolls in and the animatronic gorillas start  tweaking out.

if it wasn’t for facebook, i probably wouldn’t recognize half the people there as they have slowly morphed into beer bellied and balding insurance salesmen and haggard moms obsessed with updating everyone on their children’s diaper blowouts . facebook honestly has changed the whole reunion game, as the worst people from high school post every single thought they have each day, and i’m not sure if i am supposed to reference this or act as if i have no idea what has transpired in the last ten years. i can already see after one too many cheesy animal themed cocktails drunkenly asking, “so wait your super christian husband really was arrested for banging his 17 year old student? me and my friends group text his mug shot out like once a week, just fyi.” that would go over pretty big, i’m sure. 

our grade was also completely devoid of anything resembling a teenage hipster, so there isn’t even any long lost love there that i would want to make out with in the gift shop behind the monkey puppets . lucky for me, there will certainly be plenty of 28 year olds still wearing affliction graphic tees and obsessed with being edm djs who will probably be blasting like zedd or some shit through the rainforest. very enticing  romantic options.

so unless two randoms dorks have spent the last ten years fanatically watching romy and michelle and plotting some sort of epic maury worthy “geek to chic” reveal, i can’t imagine this reunion could possibly be worth it. i bet the 20 year reunion is probably really where its at, once half the people there are divorced and horny, midlife crisis is around the corner, and people are really starting to look like shit. add some alcohol, and the scene is ripe for some entertaining meltdowns. you can count me in for that one for sure

yes i would love to fly home to chicago for my ten year high school anniversary at rainforest cafe in a mall. i can have awkward conversations with people who i never liked with to begin with over planet earth pasta as the fake rainstorm rolls in and the animatronic gorillas start tweaking out.

if it wasn’t for facebook, i probably wouldn’t recognize half the people there as they have slowly morphed into beer bellied and balding insurance salesmen and haggard moms obsessed with updating everyone on their children’s diaper blowouts . facebook honestly has changed the whole reunion game, as the worst people from high school post every single thought they have each day, and i’m not sure if i am supposed to reference this or act as if i have no idea what has transpired in the last ten years. i can already see after one too many cheesy animal themed cocktails drunkenly asking, “so wait your super christian husband really was arrested for banging his 17 year old student? me and my friends group text his mug shot out like once a week, just fyi.” that would go over pretty big, i’m sure.

our grade was also completely devoid of anything resembling a teenage hipster, so there isn’t even any long lost love there that i would want to make out with in the gift shop behind the monkey puppets . lucky for me, there will certainly be plenty of 28 year olds still wearing affliction graphic tees and obsessed with being edm djs who will probably be blasting like zedd or some shit through the rainforest. very enticing romantic options.

so unless two randoms dorks have spent the last ten years fanatically watching romy and michelle and plotting some sort of epic maury worthy “geek to chic” reveal, i can’t imagine this reunion could possibly be worth it. i bet the 20 year reunion is probably really where its at, once half the people there are divorced and horny, midlife crisis is around the corner, and people are really starting to look like shit. add some alcohol, and the scene is ripe for some entertaining meltdowns. you can count me in for that one for sure

obligatory drunk bathroom pic at el chavo

obligatory drunk bathroom pic at el chavo

really considering hair clinic across the street from me for my next hair appointment. i love the “california style” they offer, which apparently looks a lot like if you took that fat lady from the drew carey show, dressed her from the fashion bug sales rack, and then gave her a makeover for a middle aged cougar chola. am slightly concerned about what kind of facials they are offering.

really considering hair clinic across the street from me for my next hair appointment. i love the “california style” they offer, which apparently looks a lot like if you took that fat lady from the drew carey show, dressed her from the fashion bug sales rack, and then gave her a makeover for a middle aged cougar chola. am slightly concerned about what kind of facials they are offering.

spent all day yesterday at echo park lake playing MASH like it was recess in 1994, and the now 30 year old boys were still refusing to play because they didn’t want to publicly admit any girl they would want to marry. most of the game took on a decidedly darker tone, especially in the  “kids” category, where the usual 0-1-2-3 options turned into “obese step children,” “three abortions” and “illegitimate baby with a mexican.” my future was determined to be a wells fargo bank teller in a siberian apartment with aspergers twins while married to a boy who used to cheat on his gf with me  while alternating between screaming i was ruining his life and making out. sounds amazing, cannot wait.

spent all day yesterday at echo park lake playing MASH like it was recess in 1994, and the now 30 year old boys were still refusing to play because they didn’t want to publicly admit any girl they would want to marry. most of the game took on a decidedly darker tone, especially in the “kids” category, where the usual 0-1-2-3 options turned into “obese step children,” “three abortions” and “illegitimate baby with a mexican.” my future was determined to be a wells fargo bank teller in a siberian apartment with aspergers twins while married to a boy who used to cheat on his gf with me while alternating between screaming i was ruining his life and making out. sounds amazing, cannot wait.

my friends always tease me about being into losers. while they scour potential suitors linkedin profiles to evaluate future earning potential, they joke that my dream boy doesn’t even have one. so a hot tattooed skateboarder waiter was driving me home on sunday afternoon and i made a joke referencing this, and he looked at me and was like “linkedin? what’s that?” okay, he could not be serious. “you know, it’s like a social network where you post your work history?” he was completely blank faced and it seemed he had literally never heard of it in his life. i don’t even know why i was surprised considering two hours earlier i realized he didn’t have a computer and he told me he only ever used his non -ipad tablet for watching porn. ugh. how do i stop liking boys like this. please someone help me. the thought of lawyers and doctors physically makes me recoil and i am like getting off to instagram videos of 29 year olds doing kick flips. there has  to be some sort of sexy loser aversion therapy program where they show you videos of hot guys in bands with no money, cars or jobs while giving you forceful electric shocks to knock some sense into you and then feed you pizza and ice cream and pump you with morphine as you watch a slide show of clean cut doctors, lawyers and businessmen  driving mercedes to their huge mcmansions. i’m guessing this advanced technology hasn’t been developed yet or else my parents would have been like beating down the doors of the building to enroll me in the program, begging the doctors saying “i’ve seen the way she looks at 22 year old stoners in skateparks, and its disturbing, please save our daughter.” maybe one day i can make my parents dreams of banging a guy with health insurance come true, but until then, i’ll keep getting texts like “hey, i’m delivering a pizza on your street come out and say hi.”

my friends always tease me about being into losers. while they scour potential suitors linkedin profiles to evaluate future earning potential, they joke that my dream boy doesn’t even have one. so a hot tattooed skateboarder waiter was driving me home on sunday afternoon and i made a joke referencing this, and he looked at me and was like “linkedin? what’s that?” okay, he could not be serious. “you know, it’s like a social network where you post your work history?” he was completely blank faced and it seemed he had literally never heard of it in his life. i don’t even know why i was surprised considering two hours earlier i realized he didn’t have a computer and he told me he only ever used his non -ipad tablet for watching porn. ugh. how do i stop liking boys like this. please someone help me. the thought of lawyers and doctors physically makes me recoil and i am like getting off to instagram videos of 29 year olds doing kick flips. there has to be some sort of sexy loser aversion therapy program where they show you videos of hot guys in bands with no money, cars or jobs while giving you forceful electric shocks to knock some sense into you and then feed you pizza and ice cream and pump you with morphine as you watch a slide show of clean cut doctors, lawyers and businessmen driving mercedes to their huge mcmansions. i’m guessing this advanced technology hasn’t been developed yet or else my parents would have been like beating down the doors of the building to enroll me in the program, begging the doctors saying “i’ve seen the way she looks at 22 year old stoners in skateparks, and its disturbing, please save our daughter.” maybe one day i can make my parents dreams of banging a guy with health insurance come true, but until then, i’ll keep getting texts like “hey, i’m delivering a pizza on your street come out and say hi.”

the last time i saw my dad he was driving me into the city to my friend’s and we stopped at walgreens. i was wearing a crop top and short skirt and leather jacket, a bold look for a suburban drug store on a tuesday night, and as i followed my dad into the store, some high school kid in the parking lot started screaming “i’m not saying she’s a gold diggerrrr” a la kanye west at the top of his lungs. luckily my dad was oblivious to the fact this tween thought we were dating, but i just started dying laughing at the thought of gold digging my cheap ass dad who like will buy food at aldi and has a nissan maxima with like 200k miles on it. still he is the best dad ever even if any gold digging privileges for underemployed daughters have long been suspended and i am so very lucky to have him.

the last time i saw my dad he was driving me into the city to my friend’s and we stopped at walgreens. i was wearing a crop top and short skirt and leather jacket, a bold look for a suburban drug store on a tuesday night, and as i followed my dad into the store, some high school kid in the parking lot started screaming “i’m not saying she’s a gold diggerrrr” a la kanye west at the top of his lungs. luckily my dad was oblivious to the fact this tween thought we were dating, but i just started dying laughing at the thought of gold digging my cheap ass dad who like will buy food at aldi and has a nissan maxima with like 200k miles on it. still he is the best dad ever even if any gold digging privileges for underemployed daughters have long been suspended and i am so very lucky to have him.

tinder date #2- not my best first impression

the second boy i gave my phone number to on tinder was “hot in a heroin addict kind of way,” as i told my friend. his hair should have been cut two months ago and was too greasy, and his tattoos looked like they might have been done in a prison. but my internet surveillance uncovered his vine and he was kind of adorable, so we agreed to meet up that weekend. he asked what i liked to do, and i very creatively answered “i don’t know just party and go out or whatever, what bars do you like?” and he just responded to text me when i wanted to hang. so on saturday, i go to some party at my friends and theres kegs and free drinks, and by 11 pm I am completely wasted, texting boy about how drunk i am in typo ridden messages. he tells me he can pick me up in ten mins, so i pour another drink for the road and head down to the street to wait.

the car pulls up and it only then sort of dawns on me that i am getting in a car with a random stranger off the internet at 11 pm at night, but it didn’t seem very likely that many vine users were also murderers? or else maybe my murder would be broadcast in 8 second increments. but i get in and tinder boy is cute and i am talking a mile a minute about how he should have come in because theres so much free booze there, and how i’ve been drinking since 5. “what bar do you want to go to?” i ask. “uhhhh… wait is there alcohol in that cup?” he responds sounding annoyed as he watches me attempt to sexily drink out of a red solo cup, which im pretty sure is an impossible feat. “yeah, do you want some?” i offer. “um, i don’t drink..”

excuse me what. doesn’t drink?? my alcohol soaked brain could not comprehend this information, and i can’t even imagine how horrified my face looked at that moment. i was definitely not at a state of mind to play this off coolly, and so i immediately asked “what?? why not?” “well,” he pauses, “i used to be a heroin addict actually…. so i just stopped doing everything like four years ago.” honestly, thats pretty impressive and awesome of him, but definitely worlds most awkward thing to hear within 2 minutes of getting in strangers car. i was actually way more disturbed by the not drinking than former heroin usage. yet somehow i still end up making out with him at his house and then my drink is gone, and he’s like “do you want anything to drink?” and for a second i wonder if he actually has beers or something, and then he continues “like water….” lol and i just can’t handle this wasted making out with a sober tinder person scene any longer and made him take me back to the party with my drunk degenerate friends and lots of pbr, and if i learned anything from this entire experience, its that at least now i know my perception of what a hipster heroin addict looks like is completely dead on.

"comments online include: ‘i’d like to debrief russell adams’"
only the hardest hitting news from the daily mail, as always.

just got back from visiting my best friend jena in austin for sxsw, and i never want to hear the word rsvp or wristband ever again, but still had the best time and now am depressed and pouting in my room as i count down the days until next year. 

-saw basically zero bands i had planned on seeing because i forgot how much sxsw completely sucks if you do not have a music wristband or do not love waiting in long ass lines for hours on end. but i did see my boyfriend kurt vile, cloud nothings, orwells, deap vally, like 1000 bands i forgot the name of, and the inside of a wendys like 4 times. 

-jena made out with a 23 year old that was 6’8”

-i got a sxsw tinder boyfriend because of course i did. he was canadian and would just show up completely wasted late at night to make out. he didn’t say much besides he was gluten free and wanted to take off all my clothes, but that was enough for me because he was pretty cute + tall. totally banged him at the house he was staying at while like five of his friends were passed out on the floor of the bedroom because there is something mentally wrong with me.

- on sunday night this random totally drunk guy would not stop hitting on me and buying me drinks, which at this point was totally fine with me because i was broke as fuck. eventually he asked me and jena if we would drive him home  to his parents house?! if he paid us 50 dollars, and we said we needed 20 dollars as a deposit lol which he gladly gave us, but then we said we had to go to the bathroom and booked it the fuck out of there to go buy some wendy’s nuggets. i really hope his mom had to come to the bar to pick up her wasted 35 year old son who already had a 250 dollar bar tab at 10 pm. 

-had so much fun with jena that i have definitely googled “move to austin” at least twice since i got home. even just driving around austin doing nothing would end up being the most fun ever blasting “we can’t stop” and just screaming out the window because we were completely delirious from no sleep and disturbing amounts of adderall for a week. miss her already : /

-on a less fun note, the crash that happened was sad as hell and extra scary because jena and i were actually inside the bar where the crash went down outside of. i had been waiting outside there for 3 hours earlier in the day to get into kurt vile, and now later that night people standing in the same spot ended up dead thanks to some drunk insane wannabe rapper idiot. i still don’t understand how me and jena both didn’t see any of this happen, because i have texts from inside the bar at 12:30 which is when the news said he drove onto the street and hit people, but then at 12:45 i was texting from down the street stuffing my face with pizza, totally oblivious to what had just happened where we were. just so happy we were okay, and so sad for those who were not. 

miss you austin.

just got back from visiting my best friend jena in austin for sxsw, and i never want to hear the word rsvp or wristband ever again, but still had the best time and now am depressed and pouting in my room as i count down the days until next year.

-saw basically zero bands i had planned on seeing because i forgot how much sxsw completely sucks if you do not have a music wristband or do not love waiting in long ass lines for hours on end. but i did see my boyfriend kurt vile, cloud nothings, orwells, deap vally, like 1000 bands i forgot the name of, and the inside of a wendys like 4 times.

-jena made out with a 23 year old that was 6’8”

-i got a sxsw tinder boyfriend because of course i did. he was canadian and would just show up completely wasted late at night to make out. he didn’t say much besides he was gluten free and wanted to take off all my clothes, but that was enough for me because he was pretty cute + tall. totally banged him at the house he was staying at while like five of his friends were passed out on the floor of the bedroom because there is something mentally wrong with me.

- on sunday night this random totally drunk guy would not stop hitting on me and buying me drinks, which at this point was totally fine with me because i was broke as fuck. eventually he asked me and jena if we would drive him home to his parents house?! if he paid us 50 dollars, and we said we needed 20 dollars as a deposit lol which he gladly gave us, but then we said we had to go to the bathroom and booked it the fuck out of there to go buy some wendy’s nuggets. i really hope his mom had to come to the bar to pick up her wasted 35 year old son who already had a 250 dollar bar tab at 10 pm.

-had so much fun with jena that i have definitely googled “move to austin” at least twice since i got home. even just driving around austin doing nothing would end up being the most fun ever blasting “we can’t stop” and just screaming out the window because we were completely delirious from no sleep and disturbing amounts of adderall for a week. miss her already : /

-on a less fun note, the crash that happened was sad as hell and extra scary because jena and i were actually inside the bar where the crash went down outside of. i had been waiting outside there for 3 hours earlier in the day to get into kurt vile, and now later that night people standing in the same spot ended up dead thanks to some drunk insane wannabe rapper idiot. i still don’t understand how me and jena both didn’t see any of this happen, because i have texts from inside the bar at 12:30 which is when the news said he drove onto the street and hit people, but then at 12:45 i was texting from down the street stuffing my face with pizza, totally oblivious to what had just happened where we were. just so happy we were okay, and so sad for those who were not.

miss you austin.

the kind of tinder date only i could have
i swore i was not going to go on any tinder dates, and i honestly meant it. i knew exactly where this app was going to lead me, and it was not anywhere good. however, i was still down to “yes” and “no” every 22-38 year old male in a 7 mile radius all day every day, sometimes making small talk. but anytime a dude asked for my number, i just stopped responding and moved onto the next mostly boring conversation that i could glean a few compliments from to entertain me before ditching that guy as well. eventually i come across a profile of this cute bmxer and we have 5 mutual friends, all bmxers i knew from london including one of my best friends. so i message my friend, and he’s like you have to meet this guy, you’ll love him. and then he tells me he’s messaging the guy as well, i’m sure to only tell him like “oh brittany? she’s slutty you gotta meet her,”  and before i know it this has become “a thing” and it is clear that this meeting is going to happen.so  i cave and give him my phone number, and soon this 6’4” giant man covered in tattoos will not stop sending me dozens of cute animal emojis and asking when we are going to hang out. “tomorrow,” i finally reluctantly agree.

he starts texting the next day to make plans, telling me he’s free whenever and now is  just hanging out with these 17, 18, and 19 year old bmxers who are crashing with him for the night, sending me a picture of their underage tween drinking on the couch. “aw, cute,” i tell him, although was somewhat weirded out that a 30 year old man was chilling with high school students? but we plan to meet at prado in echo park at like 10:30 so i can be supervised by half my friends who would also be there. so around 9 i start drinking, and drinking, and drinking. like i am not about to meet some random off the internet while even anything resembling sober. but i definitely over did it, and by the time i get to prado, i am already pretty much wasted. bmxer shows up a bit later, neck covered in tattoos and i swear there was like a teardrop tattoo on his face which he probably got after murdering the last tinder girl he met up with, and within about 5 minutes of his arrival i am making out with him all over prado. this is one of the last concrete memories i have of this evening. the only other fuzzy event i can recall was announcing we were leaving to go to a bar downtown, and my friend asking if i really thought that was a good idea, and i’m sure i replied by  slurring “yes, it’ll be fine,” famous last drunken words for sure.

the next thing i remember is waking up in a bed that was definitely not my own, boy arms wrapped around my midsection. but strangely, i am wearing all my clothes? which instantly gives me an alarming overwhelming sense of pride, like wow, i didn’t hook up with him. apparently blacked out brittany has more self control than anticipated. however, this feeling of accomplishment immediately vanishes when i roll over to look at him, and notice that wait…this guy doesn’t have any neck tattoos… or arm tattoos..and oh my god. then i realize who it is. it is the 17 year old bmxer from the photo he had sent me earlier. “OH MY GOD YOU ARE THE 17 YEAR OLD!!” i start completely freaking out, asking him why i am in this room, what the fuck is going on and if he was born in a year starting with “20” (close, 1997. jesus christ). at that moment, the actual bmxer walks in the room, clearly confused as hell.”what the fuck? i thought you left in the middle of the night?” i open my mouth to try to explain, but in my hungover haze can barely string words together. the 17 year old is in a panic that his bmx idol was about to beat his ass, and he starts to tell him that i just got in the bed in the middle of the night and he swore he didn’t touch me, well besides some cuddling and tween boner like illegally poking me in the (clothed) ass. eventually we all just start cracking up because the entire situation was like next level absurd. my purse was in the 30 year olds room. my shoes were next to the 17 year olds bed. i would pay very large sums of money to see videotape of what actually transpired once we got back to that house, but for now i’m sticking with got lost on the way back from the bathroom, as this apartment was confusing as hell and had way too many beds occupied by bmxers for a drunken me to successfully navigate, and the three of us were too drunk to remember anything. the actual truth will remain a mystery, and all that is certain is that i am now like the mary kay letourneau of the bmx groupie world.

 later that day, after adult bmxer drove me home as i tried not to vomit in his car, he texted me a screenshot of the tween bmxer’s twitter. “woke up with a random girl in my bed” he posted, followed by like 20 likes and replies from his horny high school friends who were only been barely making it through each horrible day of adolescence by dreaming of a future life where random girls could just end up in your bed. “that’s so cool,” one of them told him. and he replied, ” it was more weird than cool, it was my homie’s girl.” i immediately started @ing him, “more weird than cool?!?! lol rude.” i have no idea if he even figured out that i was the actual random girl who had been in his bed, but he never answered :( . so i guess that means he’s not asking me to prom…

the kind of tinder date only i could have
i swore i was not going to go on any tinder dates, and i honestly meant it. i knew exactly where this app was going to lead me, and it was not anywhere good. however, i was still down to “yes” and “no” every 22-38 year old male in a 7 mile radius all day every day, sometimes making small talk. but anytime a dude asked for my number, i just stopped responding and moved onto the next mostly boring conversation that i could glean a few compliments from to entertain me before ditching that guy as well. eventually i come across a profile of this cute bmxer and we have 5 mutual friends, all bmxers i knew from london including one of my best friends. so i message my friend, and he’s like you have to meet this guy, you’ll love him. and then he tells me he’s messaging the guy as well, i’m sure to only tell him like “oh brittany? she’s slutty you gotta meet her,” and before i know it this has become “a thing” and it is clear that this meeting is going to happen.so i cave and give him my phone number, and soon this 6’4” giant man covered in tattoos will not stop sending me dozens of cute animal emojis and asking when we are going to hang out. “tomorrow,” i finally reluctantly agree.

he starts texting the next day to make plans, telling me he’s free whenever and now is just hanging out with these 17, 18, and 19 year old bmxers who are crashing with him for the night, sending me a picture of their underage tween drinking on the couch. “aw, cute,” i tell him, although was somewhat weirded out that a 30 year old man was chilling with high school students? but we plan to meet at prado in echo park at like 10:30 so i can be supervised by half my friends who would also be there. so around 9 i start drinking, and drinking, and drinking. like i am not about to meet some random off the internet while even anything resembling sober. but i definitely over did it, and by the time i get to prado, i am already pretty much wasted. bmxer shows up a bit later, neck covered in tattoos and i swear there was like a teardrop tattoo on his face which he probably got after murdering the last tinder girl he met up with, and within about 5 minutes of his arrival i am making out with him all over prado. this is one of the last concrete memories i have of this evening. the only other fuzzy event i can recall was announcing we were leaving to go to a bar downtown, and my friend asking if i really thought that was a good idea, and i’m sure i replied by slurring “yes, it’ll be fine,” famous last drunken words for sure.

the next thing i remember is waking up in a bed that was definitely not my own, boy arms wrapped around my midsection. but strangely, i am wearing all my clothes? which instantly gives me an alarming overwhelming sense of pride, like wow, i didn’t hook up with him. apparently blacked out brittany has more self control than anticipated. however, this feeling of accomplishment immediately vanishes when i roll over to look at him, and notice that wait…this guy doesn’t have any neck tattoos… or arm tattoos..and oh my god. then i realize who it is. it is the 17 year old bmxer from the photo he had sent me earlier. “OH MY GOD YOU ARE THE 17 YEAR OLD!!” i start completely freaking out, asking him why i am in this room, what the fuck is going on and if he was born in a year starting with “20” (close, 1997. jesus christ). at that moment, the actual bmxer walks in the room, clearly confused as hell.”what the fuck? i thought you left in the middle of the night?” i open my mouth to try to explain, but in my hungover haze can barely string words together. the 17 year old is in a panic that his bmx idol was about to beat his ass, and he starts to tell him that i just got in the bed in the middle of the night and he swore he didn’t touch me, well besides some cuddling and tween boner like illegally poking me in the (clothed) ass. eventually we all just start cracking up because the entire situation was like next level absurd. my purse was in the 30 year olds room. my shoes were next to the 17 year olds bed. i would pay very large sums of money to see videotape of what actually transpired once we got back to that house, but for now i’m sticking with got lost on the way back from the bathroom, as this apartment was confusing as hell and had way too many beds occupied by bmxers for a drunken me to successfully navigate, and the three of us were too drunk to remember anything. the actual truth will remain a mystery, and all that is certain is that i am now like the mary kay letourneau of the bmx groupie world.

later that day, after adult bmxer drove me home as i tried not to vomit in his car, he texted me a screenshot of the tween bmxer’s twitter. “woke up with a random girl in my bed” he posted, followed by like 20 likes and replies from his horny high school friends who were only been barely making it through each horrible day of adolescence by dreaming of a future life where random girls could just end up in your bed. “that’s so cool,” one of them told him. and he replied, ” it was more weird than cool, it was my homie’s girl.” i immediately started @ing him, “more weird than cool?!?! lol rude.” i have no idea if he even figured out that i was the actual random girl who had been in his bed, but he never answered :( . so i guess that means he’s not asking me to prom…