Diarreah time, USA

What the fuck is wrong with college kids? Seriously, I was in college LAST YEAR, and I can't remember ever exploding diarreah all over the girls' bathroom and then menstruating all over the poops like some crazy jackson pollack pianting called, "Vagina Rhythm". No way mister, nuh uh.

Speaking of crying, i left my cell phone at my friend's house yesterday and had to come up here, to the upper west side, to retrieve it. and i have to be here for this short film shoot anyway, so here i am, in my sister's dorm room, at columbia. The only problem is...guess whose large coffee made it's way into a stomach turned itself into grumpy diarreah? hey! what's up? mine! mine did! Too bad i noticed, on my first trip to the bloody tomb that is the girls' bathroom, that the place was painted in doody and vagina tissue. great. but i can't hold it, so i go to the bathroom, where i refuse to sit on the toilet and have to keep squatting and jumping away from "the splash". i'm sure you know what i mean, and if you don't, you obviously poop in your bed everytime you "makey poopy". sick.

Cut to 30 seconds later, when i realize that, although there is much crusty shit and dribbles of the inner caverns of the female body, (some other female's body, thank you very much), there is no toilet paper,(the thing that wipes your buttcrack, just for those of you who poop your bed and use the sheets to "cleany up-y"), so i hobble to the next stall with pants around ankles to get toilet paper. wonderful. and i'm still in the fucking dorm.

let me say that whatever makes these young ladies think that they need mark the public restroom with their periods is something that is gross and strangely inevitable. I never did it and i never will. But if you'l excuse me, another hour has passed, and it's time for me to go barf and fart into the washer and then the dryer.
love,
jenny