You know that moment just after incredible, mind-blowing sex? You’re euphoric, light-headed, on Cloud 9. For those few moments life just couldn’t get any better. But then as you’re lying there in the bed of a Ford Ranger behind a 7-11 you think, “Damn, how *could* it get better than this?” And so you start to worry. Have you hit the pinnacle of your sexual escapades so young in life? How are you going to top this? It’s a scary feeling.
Well, that’s exactly how I feel after last week’s pink-off. If you didn’t notice the rowdiness transpiring in the Pepto-Bismol-colored corner of Gillis last week, then I commend you for how wasted you must have been for being able to block out our debauchery. There was more pink than Barbarella Glitoris night, gallons pink panty-dropping juice, a few floated kegs, and plenty of women’s attire worn by both sexes. Not to mention we all woke up the next morning with covered pink star stamps that proved immune to soap, water, and alcohol.
But back to my point, after all that madness, how do we top ourselves? There was mention of strippers and a bounce house at second base. However, we realized that strippers would probably go unnoticed with as much nudity that occurs each week. And the bounce house was shot down when someone mentioned that other teams are apparently at Gillis to play, kickball? We hadn’t noticed but we’re taking their word for it.
So here we are, in awkward silence next to the random in the bed of an abandoned pick-up truck wondering, what’s next? I guess we’ll just have to step up the potency of our PPD juice and let the Easies work their magic!
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