>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
November 7, 2004

I never meant for this column to be political. I don't know enough about politics to make witty sarcastic statement about the GOP or the NRA or the DMO or the BINGO to make you laugh. Politics should never be discussed in bars, on holidays, while having sex, or in observational humor columns. That's all I know. I also know that I campaigned for Kerry last week for a whole hour and it was 60 liberating minutes of calling old people and making sure they had a ride to the polls. “Who are you?” “The Democratic Party of Wisconsin?” “Well Medicare doesn't cover maid service, can you come over here and groom my dog?” “Bring a friend I'm in the mood for a sponge bath!”

Okay so not entirely liberating, but I feel I did my part. Wisconsin went Democratic. We got the 10 electoral votes. Maybe it was my volunteer minutes at work, or maybe it was the elusive phone call to the Green Bay Packers alerting them that unless the state went Democratic all their legs would be broken into little bite-sized pieces. Either way, a personal thank you to Madison, Milwaukee, Marquette, and even Lawrence (small, yet still powerful) for their contribution to the Kerry/Edwards campaign. And a big open sore puss-filled middle finger in the butthole to Ohio. That's about as much politics as you'll ever see in this column again.

“Is there anything worse than morning breath? Yes. A flaccid penis.”

ANYWAYS, on to this week's much more important topic: SLEEPOVERS!! Whether you're hooking up or just sleeping over at a friend's room for the night, one must always call into question the actual sleeping arrangements. Take a look at your bed. That mattress you sleep on hasn't been cleaned since the early 50's, right when they were applying lead paint to the walls. It has seen more play since it's manufactured birth than you ever will on your whole lifetime. But how can something so small and standard have so much experience? The power of the sleepover baby. The power of the sleepover. I said it twice just like George Bush does. Okay no more bad political jokes. I promise.

Twin beds. They're meant for one person to lay upon. Lie upon. Lay, lie, lie lay, whatever. As long as you're getting laid I don't think the mattress cares much about the grammatical syntax of the situation. But I don't understand why some mattresses are extra long but couldn't be made a little extra wide. Just so that the two people (or even three on a really good night) could at least share the bed without one person teetering off the side with limbs dangling off, the only thing protecting them from the indefinite fall being the bed sheet wrapped around a bum and the other person's legs anchoring them to the bed. It's bedtime stunts, just tie one end of the sheet to your ankle and one to the bed post. It'll double as a makeshift hammock.

Bringing someone back to your room randomly is so questionable. First of all no one's room is ever neat and tidy. EVER. Have you ever entered a guy's room and thought yourself, “Oh how thoughtful, there's an obstacle course to get me to the bed!” Or his bed was so covered with crap that he insists you two get down and dirty on the floor? Wait so your dirty clothes gets the bed and I get the corner space of the floor between your closet and the heater. How cozy. I call shotgun on the heater side. This is so much better than a mattress!

Lest we forget the makeshift bed that's been turned into a ghetto canopy bed. That way the girl will never have to feel uncomfortable knowing that when her beau's roommate comes stumbling in later that night he won't be able to tell whether they're having sex or not. Too bad he didn't have enough time to put up some sound proof padding to hold inside all the giggling that goes on while it's getting done in the first place. “Shhh!! Hee hee hee! SHHH!! Pffffftttt!! Tee hee tee hee. Do you think he know what we're doing in here?” “Don't worry about it I talk to my left hand all the time he'll probably think it's me talking to Mr. Spanky—I mean my hand.”

Getting trapped in the other person's embrace can either be a negative or positive event. It's really sweet how he's affectionate with his arms around you, but it's quite another to wake up for a brief moment after a deep sleep and find you're face is in his armpit and eww, he is beginning to sweat. Then there's the whole debate whether to wake him up or not. If you're not a good sleeper-over chances are you won't be sleeping there again. So you just stay head locked in the pit of underarm furriness that is your new pillow.

I asked a couple of people what they would need to find in the room of the person they're hooking up with that would make them back slowly out of there, run back to the party, and go to great lengths to avoid that person the rest of their college lives.

Girls claimed:

1. Another girl's panties. “Those look like my roommate's.”
2. Death metal posters. “Who'd want to get it on to Static X over John Mayer?”
3. Drawings on the wall depicting a scantily-clad woman being pierced through the torso with a wooden stake. “Did you draw these yourself? Wow you're quite talented? Is that the devil stabbing her in the heart? That looks very realistic, well is it hot in here? I'm gonna grab a water from the soda machine. Be right back. No I can get it myself “YOU STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE.”
4. Tribal fertility masks. “Hi I'm not Britney Spears, put those puppies away.”
5. Condom wrappings on the floor of the bed.

Guys claimed:

1. Freaky looking stuffed animals and dolls, especially dolls. “I'm sorry I am just too uncomfortable with those things watching us. I think one of their heads may begin to turn while their body stays positioned where it is. And I am pretty sure the cotton ball thing that looks like Lambert is following me with his beady eyes.”
2. Framed pictures of your ex-boyfriend on the window sill next to the bed.
3. Questionable stains on the sheets. “Somebody's clearly been here before because I can identify my stains by the way they streak, not way it cakes to the comforter.”
4. A shine to him. “Where did you get those photos? Is that me sleeping? Is that used Kleenex mine?
5. A shrine so condensed that you think you're a teen beat magazine. And you feel like you're some complete Hollywood Heartthrob that your little sister is obsessed with. “I see you have 19 posters of Orlando Bloom. Oh and look at this you seem to be Vice President of his fan club….my 14-year-old sister is president. Maybe you two should meet….I'll go call her…YOU STAY HERE.”

Is there anything worse than morning breath? Yes. A flaccid penis. But other than that? Yes. Having your bed buddy so drunk she wets the bed. Other than that? No. Okay, so there are only two scenarios when you wake up. The first is one person runs to the bathroom and gargles mouth wash and comes back with Scope breath for about two minutes before it turns into that death mint smell (poop and mint) because he didn't scrub his tongue and now the gingivitis cells have reaccumulated to form a counter-attack in his gums. I really couldn't tell you what was worse. How about everyone just places the sheets over the mouth and talks to each other like that for the rest of the morning.

If anyone was smart they would just leave Dentyne Ice next to their alarm clock. In the morning offer it to your bed mate and continue to sex each other up into the wee hours and skip the awkwardness all together. But no guy ever thinks about those things in advance. If he did, it would make you think, “He's been in this position many times, and there are six pieces of gum missing when he popped our out this morning. Who did he share the other three pieces with, and why can't he just go brush his teeth while I pretend I'm asleep like everyone else so I can just fart and let the odor dissolve by the time her gets back?”

That's another thing. Everyone gets what I'd like to call “digestive pains.” It's the girlie way of putting it, I'll admit, but it sounds a helluva lot better than fart or boomer. The funniest thing about the spooning position is the fact that the chick might fart into your crotch, but it's not one of those loud, nasty, I ate way way waaaaaayyyyy too many baked beans at the Kappa Delta BBQ. No. It's one of those farts that goes PIFF and you feel the flow of hot heat on your genitals. She makes a boomer you lose your boner. It's one of those nasty lose-lose situations.

Then there's the harsh reality of waking up with the other person wanting you out of there so fast that a Listerine Breath strip isn't even a second thought in his head.

Sometimes on wild Sunday nights when one must wake up in the morning there's always the issue of when the other person is going to leave. Obviously the other roommate is going to come back sometime soon and nothing's better than being in a situation when it's just you and the stranger roommate together while you're struggling to get your clothes back on while still trying to keep yourself covered with the sheet as to not let the goodies slip out. And keeping that sheet on is a bitch. After two or three sleeping visits you should just figure to hell with it. She's heard us have sex like six times now. We crossed the friendship line two days ago when I came really loudly and forget she was in the room. I doubt she really wants to see my goods anymore.

I know someone that once woke up in the 69 position with him fully dressed and her completely naked. I think that's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy more awkward than the morning breath.

In the morning that obstacle course I mentioned earlier now acts as another game. It's called scavenger hunt and the prize for finding everything on your list is being able to wear clothes home instead of being naked. Whoo hoo have fun. I hope Ohio is naked. And people gawk and point at them wee wee all the way home. Piggies.

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