Rexican is an Awesome Portmanteau

Several weeks ago, my friend hooked up with a recovering sex addict/intense moody writer/arrogant crude asshole who lives on her hall. We gabbed about it a few days later, and she was very up for it again. She is a crazy person. He is a large guy, makes the occasional fart joke, dry humps his best friend as a joke, and keeps his room in a perpetual state of messiness that can only compare to a tornado-stricken area.

So naturally I got drunk in his room last weekend and almost did the same exact motherfucking thing.

I am chock full of win, aren't I? I think at some point, I should have learned my lesson, but apparently not HAAH oh me goddammit @____@ There is nothing even remotely redeeming about this guy aside from his newly acquired bong and magnificent stash of ganja, and still--still!--I take it upon myself to consider him as another notch on my ever-growing list?! Maybe I've smoked too much. Maybe I like stealing my best friend's boy crushes. Maybe I'm just really horny. (highly likely, no way, and I always have my hand.)

The craptastic icing on the cake is that now he thinks I'm into him and has asked me over to his room twice now since Saturday. ACK. Honestly, if it weren't for the magnificent mary jane he has in his possession...

MY LIFE MAKES NO SENSE.