It was an eventful span of three days for me.
I hurt my neck. I woke up and I was in so much pain. I'm guessing it was a result of all my headbanging to Avril Lavigne, but no one knows for sure. Still, my mother's car was broken, so she wanted to hang out and who better to drive her around then her favorite live in child?
We went to this coffee shop downtown. It was very good and I even parallel parked on a busy street. I'm amazing. My neck was not feeling my usual exorcist mentality, but still I persevered and took that parking spot like the blonde bitch I am.
Three (four? six?) days later I ran my car battery down at work. Now I know how to jump a car, I have run my battery down many times before. I even had the assistance of Sacajawea. You know your best friends when someone willingly get's their extensions wet to help you jumpstart your car. It was thundering and dark outside, so we may have required the assistance of everyone's favorite country boy, but besides that we are strong independent individuals. Basically.
We stopped by the Planned Parenthood booth and stocked up on my condom lollipops. If you ever go to a Pride there's always a million booths. You've got churches telling you it's okay to be gay, but my mother has cited Timothy 1:9 and 1:10 enough for me to know that's not how they really feel. Then, you always have the overpriced street vendors, because it's really fucking hot.
The cute flirting is less cute. He goes on to correct himself to say that I look like a “$1,000”. I tell him, “I'm worth more then that.” I'm imaging that's the moment he decided not to ask for my number.
When she said that she was doing a meet and greet, this bitch had to be apart of it. I bought a physical copy of her EP Bombastic (a Friday Favorites on the EP is coming in two days). I stood in line. I was shaking. I had time to make a great first impression.
I made a pleasant if unmemorable impression on her. Which, I regret. Did I ask her the hard hitting questions. When is the album coming it? Have you heard Katy Perry's new record? No, I didn't. I have a feeling that Bonnie and Katy hang out at Katy's mansion and drink martinis and talk shit about boys when their both not on tour. But, what do I say. “I've been obsessed with you, since you released that song “American Girl”. Why am I like this God.
Honestly, I've been spending a lot of time with my mother. The madre. The woman who pushed me out of her vagina. We had a great Mother's Day. I took her to a nice hole in the wall for breakfast. I got sausage gravy and biscuits like a good country boy.
The night of debauchery ended with us seeing a screening of Mothers and Daughters. It was dull and contrite, but ended warm and predictable. We meant to see Susan Sarandon's film The Meddler, but that's another story. Spending time with your mother is the best, especially if you don't hate each other. We're going to see Carrie Underwood together. My country white girl heart is bleeding.
Rosencrantz and I have been reconnecting as well. We spent the better part of last year not talking, mostly my fault. I need to make more time for people. We've been three muskeetering it with Sacajawea, the true love of our lives.
It was my 20th birthday. I came to the gripping realization that I hadn't accomplished anything with my life other then beating teen pregnancy. It was a beautiful rainy day. I woke up and had a reheated cup of coffee and enjoyed life. I was less then a week away from finals. I was drained, but elated, exhausted, yet ecstatic, looking beautiful as usual.
That night I had plans with two of my favorite people in college. They both canceled on me. One was sick, and the other one has restrictive parents who didn't want her to go out in the rain, which I personally think is very reasonable.
I'm glad she forced me out of my Friends marathon. Honestly, what else would I have to do during the summer if I'd watched it all on my birthday?
There's a song by Marina and the Diamonds called “How To Be A Heartbreaker”. The goal of this post is not as ambitious as that song, nor does it feature a slew of shirtless men (although it should). Instead it's a bitter diatribe of a college student writing after midnight.
I was just trying to sleep, unable to focus on anything appropriate and I was just thinking about how you should be treated.
2. Never date someone who is significantly older then you when your older. I think it's one of the worst ways to set yourself up for emotional manipulation.
3. Lastly do not spend time with people who do not make time for you or/and invalidate how you feel.
Liebster Award Guidelines:
3. Who is/are your style icon(s)?
Princess Diana. She was always very sophisticated and put together. I even liked it when she dressed matronly. It might not reflect in how I present myself, but she always there. I'm more hopelessly devoted to that Shannen Doherty/Alicia Silverstone look. I love tweed and shoulder pads.
4. Which decade is your favorite? If possible, would you go back in time and live through it as you are now?
My favorite decade is the seventies. I've always loved the chill vibes of the music and of course disco. I could have lived through Olivia Newton John's heyday and seen Charlies Angels live on TV, but no part of me would actually want to go back and grow up through it.
7. What was your last birthday like? Did you get presents? Did you do anything to celebrate?
This is going to sound horrible, but my last birthday I spent the day at home, alone. My grandmother passed away a few days before, so my parents went to her funeral. I didn't get any presents and I didn't go out and celebrate, but it was honestly one of my favorite birthdays. It was very relaxed and peaceful
10. Have you ever been fired from a job? If so, why?
I haven't been fired from a job... yet.
11. What was the last blog post that made you smile and why?
It would have to be one of Nick Tredrea's. He hasn't been posting for a while, but he's always wild. His blog is so much fun, I can't wait for him to return.
10. I am a nineteen year old middle class American and I still don't have a cellphone and my family didn't get internet until a month before I started college.
11. I have very few talents, but I happen to be quite adept at balancing trays on my head.
This has been so much fun! Thanks to Cherie Cheezcake for being the best and nominating me for this!
He's said some strange things to me, but I would file him under “sexually fluid” rather than “sexually confused”.
So, there I was. It was a nice Saturday shift. My manager told me that he was going to a gay bar that night and that all the men were going to buy him drinks. His logic made sense. He, the straight male, would get hit on, because he was so undeniably attractive.
At this point his story became more convoluted. He went home with the billionaire older gay. A classic plotline. Back to his condo where he slept off the alcohol.
Mind you while all of this is happening, my manager just got back together with his girlfriend. So, he got fucked by some man he didn't even know, while he had his cute adorable tiny girl at home. I personally think this is going to end really well for him.
A cautionary tale of why not to get wasted at mysterious bars.
You are probably asking what I won. At first it was a box of tissue and a copy of 25. Then, my favorite Prince William manipulated someone into stealing his gift, so he could rob me. I have never felt more violated in my life. It ended all right, though. I ended up a sweater and two scarf hangers richer.
The night was very low key. I lost at all incarnations of Mario. Super Mario Smash Bros. Mario Kart 8. It seemed no matter what I did, I was not destined to be good at these games. And, it's fine. I personally enjoy losing every single time.
I get home. Unlock the door. The dog has a jingle bell collar on. He looks cute and my father for some reason is awake. He asks me where I got the sweater from. I look down at it. Thinking that my tacky Christmas sweater is in the car when I tell him that I got it from Prince William.
My GSA president has this bad habit of texting and driving. As well as speeding. At one point I had to borrow his phone to call his boyfriend. I told him, “This is not how I want to die. Driving to a conference. That is not glamorous. This is not a story my grandchildren will pass on to their grandchildren.”
That night we arrived. Blurry eyed. We were staying in the basement of this nice Presbyterian church. They had horrible water. But, there was a pool table, so that made up for it.
After lunch we saw a talk from Janet Mock, which fed from the last group we saw on problems transgender individuals face. Janet Mock is a transrights activist. She's amazing. She's stunning and her hair is gorgeous.
She walked out a jacket slinked around her shoulders, and some good nude pumps on. Her commentary is engaging and incredibly well thought out. One of the things she said that's really stuck with me is “we wouldn't have to talk about oppression if people didn't have to live it.” If you have any interest in know more about trans issues, go watch her interview with Oprah. Read her column. Buy her book. The woman's amazing.
In the most shocking turn of events I went to another party. Two in less then a span of week. It was intense. We were practically in San Francisco. I had on 4 and ½ inch wedges. I wasn't drinking. I put half a shot of vodka in my grape soda. That was about as lit as I was getting.
About midnight we stumbled back to the Presbyterians. Got cookies from Insomnia and smoked another bowl. Passed out asleep and didn't leave until 11:00 the next day.
It was a successful trip. I finally found out what “kush” was. Drank straight pumpkin pie from a smoothie place and learned that Concord isn't a state.
Picture it. It was me and one of my favorite people on campus. She's young. 23, maybe 25. Also not old enough to experience the fax machine. And, we could not figure it out. We struggled. We punched in numbers. We gave up. I ended up going to Kinkos and spending $2.40 to send a one page document. One Page.
The funniest thing is that they thought this was some big surprise. Like they spend so much time together. To the point that it's clear that their not “just friends”. They're the prettiest couple I know and I cry a little inside.
I look good as I always do and this car window rolls down. It's the director of one of my programs and she's like do you want to watch this documentary with us? And, I said (still walking) “Nooooooooo”. She says “are you going to the meeting tomorrow?” and I was like “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”
It was very uncomfortable experience of disappointment. I also got a certificate saying how fabulous I am. Clearly. I already knew, but now I have written proof. I was also informed that I was “iconic” and that I show our campus “what liberal really means.”
I don't know what that last thing means, but I like the way it sounds.
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.