Ah, sweet victory. To me, victory smells like rich mahogany, stale beer, and Dijarim Cloves…It looks like Bichon Frise Puppies frolicking in a well-manicured yard where Channing Tatum plays croquet with my Mommy. It sounds like… Whammy! Batter Up! Count it! Can’t Hold me Down! And so on.
Friends beg me to stop playing the mental escapade highlight reel, 10 years after the fact. But I won’t. I invented the term “Glory Story” back in the fall of 2004 when I peaced out early on the mandatory Convocation ceremony during Orientation. All of sudden people started praying and I knew my heathen ass had to scram. So there I was, strutting down the street back to Bashford Hall, when the clouds opened up and God himself said to me in a shining ray of light, “Do it to it!” That’s when this piece of man meat strolled over to me from his porch across the street and uttered those timeless words which get babygirl every time: “Has anyone ever told you you look like Lindsay Lohan?” And so began the college journey.
Anywhooooo… Pour one out for my aliens, especially Julius and Aunty Ray Ray, who have yet to escape being exposed to these sorts of retardo stories that really just end up with someone getting locked out on a freezing staircase, or needing a ride to Timmy Ho’s and/or the health center.
Below are my go-to jimmy jams for adding a soundtrack to the times when your game is sharp, your costume is fly, and you cannot be stopped.
Against the odds:
Stealing from another Broad:
Long time coming:
Walk of Shame/Stride of Pride:
…and my personal favorite, the bender:
On a Heater: