Eskimo Brothers

Oh Thursdays, they never cease to amaze me. This morning I wake up, roll over in bed, take a gander at my phone. This whole drunk texting thing needs to end. Is there an app for that? Yes, starting the day off with a headache, leftovers of alcohol in random cups scattered everywhere, some in the fridge. Why is it that when you're drunk you think leftovers of a drink are going to be as good as leftovers from dinner? It literally makes no sense when you're sober. But whatever. Most of my memory is gone past midnight. Anything after is a toss up as for what actually happened. I think I went bar hopping? Or to another house? I have no fucking idea, but this headache and text log full of mistakes are just evidence of a great time that I'll never remember.

I wish the weather wasn't so shitty. But at least it gives me a good excuse to stay in bed, nursing my headache and bruises. Have to be up and primed for tonight's festivities! I probably won't try to go balls deep in the rage tonight, but I'll definitely be ready to throw back a couple shots.

Today's discussion is on the truths of being an eskimo brother. Now, for the readers who do not know what the fuck eskimo brothers are, it is when two people share the same sexual partner. No, I don't mean having a threesome or being swingers (necessarily), but say you hooked up with this one guy (or girl) and it turns out a friend of yours already did. You and your friend, congratulations, are eskimo brothers!!

Now, don't go out and celebrate your discovery by killing some baby seals with clubs or build an igloo. In reality, your discovery is a reflection of our tiny little community, and is up for you and your friends to hide in shame or laugh about it all in good fun.

In my circle of friends, the bunch of sex fiends we are, it is very easy to walk into a party, or even just a room hanging out, and see quite a few of your own eskimo brothers, as well as another circle of eskimo brothers, which may or may not be even more of a shitfest than your own awkward encounter with your "brothers".

In my case, I usually laugh at my own sexcapades, and enjoy a joke or two about how I'm such a dumb slut with my friends. In other cases though, I have been a witness to the tension that emanates throughout the room when an awkward as fuck love triangle walks into the room. One lover won't look at the other, but stares at the common x factor with longing or pure hatred.

Sometimes being an eskimo brother, in fact, ruins friendships. And nothing short of hiding in your dorm or house will keep you from experiencing such discoveries. Often, too, it seems if the creation of eskimo brothers was not founded on good terms or the like, it often leads to fights, the usual drunk anger (that itself is a topic I will soon discuss), and divides among friends.

My ending advice is this, keep it in your pants or laugh about it. Simple enough. This campus is much too small to think you can hide who you fucked after the mixer you went to, or that you think you can hook up with your friend's ex. So take everything with a grain of salt, and hope that your close friend isn't a Slutty McSlutterison.

Now, I hope all you dear readers enjoy your weekend. It's Friday, Friday, gotta get crunk on Friday! (Ha, hope that stupid ass song gets stuck in your head.) Til next, time...

Rage on motherfuckers!

Ps. If a tornado does come, I hope it really will wipe out this entire cesspool of  a campus. Some of you could use a fresh start, and I'm right there with ya.

xoxo TO