SARA SPEAKS- My drunk clownish stripper/ exotic dancer roommate

What’s the deal with my stripper friend and her makeup obsession? Every time she leaves the house, it looks like she’s auditioning for a role as a circus clown. Seriously, I swear she uses a paint roller for that foundation. And don’t even get me started on the perfume. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to cover up the scent of a week-old tuna sandwich. Walking behind her is like getting hit by a cloud of flowers and fruit that smacks you right in the face. I don’t know what’s more impressive—the amount of layers on her face or the fact that she can actually breathe under all that!

So my stripper friend comes home with wads of cash, which can only mean one thing: she’s been doing some serious lap-dancing, rubbing up on sweaty dudes all night. Now, I’m no prude, but what really gets me is that on weekends, her man comes over… and after a long night at the club, she just jumps right into bed with him, no shower, no nothing. I’m sitting there thinking, “Dude, seriously? She’s just been grinding on, like, 59 different guys, and you’re okay with that?” And then it hits me—oh right, if she took a shower, he wouldn’t recognize her in the morning without all that makeup!