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Apparently, Ass, and Drunk: snarling-through-our-smiles I once lost my keys at a frat house. My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully- disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch. Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out do not remember The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house. I stood there, right in front of the front door. This was a novel experience for me. I'd never been at a frat house in broad daylight before. A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing. "I lost my keys in here last night, I called back. "I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?" He opened the door and gestured for me o come in. "Go wherever you want." I'd never seen a frat house post-party Derore. Wandering up the stairs a by hungover and still-drunk frat boys sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light. A few of them threw puzzled glances my way. I'm sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination. I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller- esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed. "Do you like dog movies?" he asked, voice from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket. I told him I did. e mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking my keys. "Sorry, I haven't seen any keys around bere I didn't doubt him. Twenty minutes had passed. I'd searched just about every bedroom and nuclear- at dumn-site of a bathroom in that house. I'd given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates' forgiveness and get a new set copied. As I stood there in the hallway, silently a particularly burly frat boy approached me. "You need help with something? "I lost my keys here last night and I can't find them, I've looked everywhere. "What do they look like? I'll put it into the group chat. He was already pulling out his phone. No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell. It was worth a shot. "Um, it's just a ring of keys. The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big. Like bright pink, you can't miss He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat. "Alright, I sent the message out. Good luck. e turned and left. And with that, A few moments later, I heard a distant and it was getting louder and louder, One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me. "Someone tell the girl!" One of them shouted, faceless in the mob. "Girl! Hey, GIRL! We found your keys, girl!!! They circled around me. I hadn't felt that old, One of them split himself off from the crowd. "Are these -"he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, "your keys? And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring. "Yes,"I whispered. "Oh my god, yes." "EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY YYYYYYYYYY!!" The cheer went up. Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs. I thanked them again profusely. There was a scattered round of "no problems" and then, just suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night. gatorfisch THIS is boys will be boys Nice Frathouse
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Animals, Bones, and Drugs: Humans of New York 5 hrs "I used heroin for ten years. It wasn't a very good life, as you'd expect. I had my son taken from me. I lost my job at the Fiat factory. I spent all my time trying to find money, find dealers, and stay away from police. I hated myself. I couldn't face anyone. Then one day my friend's dog had puppies. I'd never had a dog before, but I always liked animals- so I told him to give me the smallest and ugliest one he had. The one nobody else wanted. And that's how I got Joe. Joe was the angel of my life. We understood each other. There was no need for words. He followed me around all the time. He slept next to me on the street. The moment I opened my eyes in the morning he would lick my face. He gave me self-esteem. I was a complete loser but at least I could take care of Joe. I could bring him to the park. I could bring him to the vet. I could raise enough money to get his medication. He's the reason I was finally able to quit heroin. Because if something happened to me, what would happen to him? So I got clean. It was hard but I got clean. Joe lived for another thirteen years. He got a tumor in 2012 and held on a few more months. I barely survived it. I was able to stay off drugs, but I promised myself that I'd never get another dog. It's just too painful. But two years ago I found Leica beneath a mobile home. She was all skin and bones. She'd been abandoned. I didn't have a choice. For the first few months I called her Joe. But I had to stop. Because Joe'ss gone. And the name doesn't really matter, anyway. It just matters that I love her." (Rome, Italy) i thought this belonged here a very wholesome story

i thought this belonged here a very wholesome story

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