Truck beds.

"I'm a thourough-bred
That's what she said
In the back of my truck bed
As I was gettin' buzzed on suds
Out on some back country road.
We where flying high
Fine as wine, having ourselves a big and rich time
And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go.
But her evaluation
Of my cowboy reputation
Had me begging for salvation
All night long
So I took her out giggin frogs
Introduced her to my old bird dog
And sang her every Wilie Nelson song I could think of

And we made love"

This morning, I woke up in Jeff's truck bed.
I woke up wearing a mystery hoodie, that no one would claim as their own.
There was a mysterious liquid, a shade of brown, ready to drip onto my head.
I sat down to eat breakfast, I belched so loud Derek blamed it on Jeremy, and then I decided to rest my head on the table. In return, falling back asleep on the table me and Alex were eating on.
It was a great way to spend the last weekend of summer vacation, and I got lots of pictures, all up on Facebook.
Work tomorrow, it should be as boring as any other Monday.
Bed around nine, school Tuesday at seven twenty five.