EvilAgent sent me a link to textsfromlastnight. She found it at UrbanDaddy:

In short, readers send last night’s drunken exchanges to text@textsfromlastnight.com, and the site posts it, blog-style, along with an area code. And that’s it. Suddenly, your tiny masterpieces of pith and wit (“Do you think they could tell I was high on that conf call?”) can live on in eternal infamy, next to epic tales of hangovers, waking up in bathtubs and the occasional Chewbacca mask.

Of course, you don’t have to participate—you could easily lose an afternoon scrolling through the hundreds of exchanges the site has collected so far. (“I’m half single.” “Please tell me it’s the bottom half”; “Incredible sex, Maddow, more sex, spoon, sex again.”) It’s the best combination of the Internet and voyeurism since Al Gore invented the damn thing in the first place.

Now, where did we put our pants…

The most recently posted txt when I checked out the site was, “(619): Good news! Whoever used this stall at Target earlier…not pregnant!” I suspect the novelty kinda wears off after a few minutes, but it was an entertaining way to spend a few minutes before class.