Recently, I've gotten the most absurd compliments on my legs. They are long, but through a combination of poor shaving habits, bruises, and bug bites I would not define them as “attractive”. Although, apparently their what make me a solid 6 out of 10. Anyone looking for someone with legs, hit me up.
I'm not offended by this. I personally enjoy a good compliment even if it is completely full of shit. It makes one feel like their not completely wasting their 20s on botox and shots of bacardi.
Legs, Thighs, & Lovers
I was also volunteering, as I do most Wednesday nights, when this very pleasant gentleman in his late 30s early 40s told me that “black men must love me.” I do not have extensive expertise in being hit on. It's happened a few times, all memorable, only one worth talking about, but not a single one has been outside of the broad genre of “Caucasian”. And, it's not even that broad. They've all had oatmeal complexion.
I don't know. I love the concept of being obsessed and desired by everyone, but from research and experience it's just not true. I also got hit on at Target, but I don't want to talk about that.
Raven wrote a letter to her favorite professor and in return she was entered to win tickets. Together we won. All my single friends are jealous of our friendship to be honest.
The next day I got all dressed up. Decked up in my retro seventies pantsuit and a 4.5 inch gladiator wedges. My hair is fixed. I even managed to throw on some cologne. I looked beautiful and over exaggerated as usual with my flared and tapered white linen dress pants.
We were three rows back. I thought I would hate the ballet. I'm sitting there, still expecting dialogue for some point, when Cinderella comes out. We have the wicked step sisters, who by far are the best part of the show, and the wicked step mother. By the time the first curtain draws a continuous stream of classical music was hammered home and not a single word was spoken.
One group of friends I just don’t know how I feel. I want them in my life and I don’t at the same time. I care and I don’t. I’m still low key hurt, but actually really high key. I think it’s part of me not dealing with my emotions very well.
Sacajawea said to me that she doesn’t like spending time with me, because I’m so negative. I guess that wasn’t supposed to hurt my feelings. I only have three, but it hurt all of them. If I was texting this I would have added lol.
Tuesday is when it really started. We had wacky Olympics that day. All of the organizations on campus compete in these activities to determine who has the most “spirit”. The only thing is no one on campus actually has any spirit. Still we try.
Black competed in the wacky Olympics. She was the sad part of the wheelbarrow relay race. I watched from the stands cheering her on. I'd been on campus, since 9:30 that morning. I didn't leave until 11:00. I worked on this puzzle with the only heterosexual male I talk to. We put off our project. My hair fell down. It was a great day.
We canceled on homecoming. We listened to Anti. Denied our school spirit. And, because we're wild children one of us had a wine cooler. It was a crazy week that ended in a crazy night at 10:00
Yasss Lebron! Slay!!!
It was such an experience. I looked cute as I always do. I had a shirt with some numbers on. 69. Emblazoned ver the 69 are the words nineteen. I felt very cute and heterosexual. I had my purple plaid Shannen Dohertyesque jacket on, some tight black jeans. The quintessential wardrobe classic and these cute green bootie wedges.
Funny enough before we got in the stadium we had to walk back to the car in the rain, because our driver forgot her ticket. It was okay with me. I had to burn off the four tic tacs I'd eaten earlier in the day. You know that their 1.9 calories each, so I got 7.6 taken away from my waist. I applaud her
The only thing that matters is that I bonded with Black's little. We have Bigs and Littles in our program. Much like Sororites and Fraternities have Bigs and Littles. I bonded with her little. Who is not little. She's a gorgeous lanky, basketball player, who likes my legs. I'm in love with her.
After this night I just feel complete. I've done one more thing in my life and I never have to go again. To me sporting events are social events. As long as you have good company it doesn't matter what game you're watching.
First Week Of SChool
On Sunday I was with the twins. The day before class starts. And, I was casually discussing the hate comment I received on my video “Tip Thy Waiter”. Both Joyce and Black have claimed it as my best. So this isn't actually related to my emotional breakdown at school, but I'm working there.
I ran into someone that I kind of sort of liked. I never talked about it on the blog. It was an the end of the school year kind of thing. I thought I was over it. Of course I knew I wasn't and here I am typing out this article emotionally unhinged.
My first day look was the same one I wore on my trip to St. Louis with the twins. It was summery and bright. For some reason one of my fellow homosexuals decided to step his A game up. He's always had nice hair, just not the way he styled it. He has nice clothes, there just not put together well. Yet, here this little bitch is in my Detective Fiction class looking more then decent. What the fuck.
I also refused to acknowledge Warner in public. I'm petty. I like being texted first. I like being acknowledged first and I don't apologize. He didn't say hi to me until Thursday.
I also went to the GSA meeting. This year I will be a proud member of the Gay Straight Alliance. Most importantly I will be active. I introduced myself as a Freshman Marketing Major. Multiple people had to tell me I was a sophmore. That was awkward. And, yes my favorite superhero is Green Lantern. Ryan Reynolds looked sexy as fuck in that movie.
BUT THESE LITTLE BITCHES STOLE OUR NAME.
I am not upset about this. Salty, perhaps. But, upset no. We lost terribly. They helped to not dilute our brand recognition. The questions were based on The Office. I know that John Krasinski is married to Emily Blunt that is the extent of my knowledge.
That was my week. Now I'm here typing, waiting to go see Joyce receive $10,000 for being an awesome student. I'm not kidding. That's the gist of it.
Until next time where hopefully my life involves more then school starting up.
Road Trip! (Part Two)
This morning I was getting dressed for the day and I couldn't figure out why I have four more outfits for the next two days. I also have five pairs of shoes for a four day trip, but not even that merciless shower head could beat the answer into me.
In other news I sleep deprived myself just enough that I wasn't kept up by the air conditioning unit. Ready for today.
We gave up and settled on our next stop. The Outlet Mall. We got there at 9:30. It didn't open until 10:00. Our options were clear. Find somewhere else to spend our time. Google did not fail us this time. We settled on a coffee shop in St. Charles. It had Picasso in the title. It seemed quaint. I was the only one who got coffee. It was called Black Forrest and was supposed to taste of cherry's. It served it's purpose about as well as Boomer likes modern art (he's not a fan).
We actually bought something. Usually boutique shopping involves a lot of browsing. We did that. But, this store was within three college students price ranges. The twins bought two hand towels. One for their mother and the other for their brother's fiancee. Miss Sara Bellum splurged and bought a good luck token for her dorm room.
A gallery was opened down the street. The artwork was reasonably priced if you weren't in a dorm room with cinder block walls. There was shoe shop named Gene's that catered to visiting Floridians. Bars and restaurants dotted the street. A club was in one of the buildings. If only we were twenty one.
I never would have thought to stop in St. Charles. Or even thought of it as a destination choice, but it's something I wish I'd been able to see more of. It was picturesque. You could spend a solid day exploring it or trying to get off the roundabout. Which, ever came first.
We were not as successful clothes wise as we might have hoped. We found one thing at Burlington Coat Factory. A pair of shorts for the sexy Sara Bellum. Rainbow was useless. Surprisingly it was Charlotte Russe that we did well. I got two scarves for two dollars each. I couldn't help myself. The twins tried on clothes. Bought clothes. So many I can't remember. Most of my time was spent trying on Boho hats and twerking to Britney Spear's “Pretty Girls” with what little ass I have.
Buy "Pretty Girls"
In a true spot of sophistication. We got takeout from Panda Express and ate our food in the sculpture park under the shade of a beautiful trade. I was in my four inch wedges and I had little idea that the pathways were gravel and so much was off road. The map I have spread out makes little more sense now then it did at the park. We planned on walking one of the three trails. Either the ten minute Whitaker Woods Trail or the twenty five minute Central Pathway. We did a little of all trails and marveled at all the work.
There was a dog house nicer then my room. Portraits by Maude Earl. A British painter famous for her work on dogs. The most reading intensive part of the exhibit revolved around service dogs. It's hard not to be amazed at how capable these animals are.
It had portraits by Liat Yossifor that dealt with the aesthetic of cave painting and the intuitive act of finger painting. Her works were mostly solid white with different textures and only limited use of primary color. One of the works on display was entitled Yellow II.
They were also doing an entire demonstration called the Sanatorium. We were only able to participate in one of the parts available. It was interactive and was supposed to gauge ways to help people achieve group therapy. We wrote down our darkest secrets tied it up with twine and read one of the previous respondents answer.
Mine discussed how lonely they felt even among people they were close to. The curator explained that was normal. It's disturbing how commonplace such an emotion can be.
The other two artists on display were Richard Tuttle and Fred Sandback. I would argue that there were works were minimalist. I would even argue that art might be a strong word for what they were doing.
God, I sound just like Boomer.
Last night at America's Best Value Inn.
My ear buds and I are listening to The 1975. The album not their new song “Medicine”. Found out that Miss Sara Bellum doesn't like them. Like truly doesn't like them. Strongly hates. It surprised me.
Our dinner consisted of going out scandalously clad. I was scantily covered. The Mayor didn't change. Miss Sara Bellum did. She informed me I looked like a cute lesbian from behind. I asked her if she would date me and she told there couldn't be two lipsticks in the relationship.
We had planned on going to Bailey's Chocolate Bar for dessert. We couldn't find it. @ Google get your life. Instead we drove around downtown St. Louis. This was our first time downtown. We'd avoided it the entire trip just to find out that it's mainly banks and Hard Rock Cafe with an expensive mall. We almost ran over the same man twice, while he was trying to cross the street. There comes a point when it's not all my fault.
In a spat of going hard or going home without google we ended up on the freeway. Picture Dionne in Clueless. That was me.
Our night ended with an intense game of Parcheesi. Nothing like a dice version of Sorry to make you want to punch a best friend in the face. At some point we reverted back to Zero. A trivia based question game that was less competitive with us playing. “Name one of the six states in Australia”. Answer that none of us know this answer.
That's Americans for you.
My music has switched to Lana Del Rey and 11:57 AM seems a good time to end today. Wrapped up in a heather pink infinity loop scarf...
Driving for multiple hours on end has not left me exhausted. Currently I have two infinity loop scarfs wrapped around my throat and I'm trying not fall asleep. Our trip has finally come to a close.
We got dressed in our floral attire. We packed up and cleaned up. We were ready to check out of our hotel. We did that and we made our way to the St. Louis Botanical Gardens. They were amazing.
His bachelor home was amazing. Goals stamped on a house. It turned out he was a writer. For a moment we thought we'd heard of him. We mistakenly mixed his last name with that of British playwright George Bernard Shaw. Similiar but not close.
The most fascinating thing about Henry Shaw was that the died a bachelor. He never married. He never had children. What an interesting thing for a wealthy bachelor. It makes one wonder what he did with his spare time.
Multiple signs informed us that we were not allowed to wade in the lake. I wanted to ask who would do that. Then, I realized if there was a sign that meant someone had done it. Much like the “don't feed the red fox” sign. There must be a story behind that.
This church had me reconsidering my stance on the justice of the peace. I wanted to walk down the aisle with 2,500 of my closest friends while the organ plays and Andre Boccelli sings to me in Italian. I'm afraid I was scantily clad for such a religious place.
There happened to be a tour going on. It was fascinating. The man was much older. He was probably more then disturbed by me. I thought he was funny. He gave quite an enjoyable tour. He pointed out so much of the religious imagery I never would have caught. How the three domes represented the son, the ghost, and the holy spirit. More amazingly how there wasn't a single drop of paint in the church.
We drove in silence. We listened to Katy Perry's One of the Boys. Only the fourth time I've listend to that album all the way through. I forgot how offensive “I Kissed A Girl” and “Your So Gay” are. They may have shock value, but she comes across as a terrible person.
The trip was a success. Our friendship is intact. And, sitting here typing this at 10:55 pm is a far improvement over being at work. The only thing I missed was the dog and he's right here.
Tear It Down
Black and I decided to go and it was honestly so exciting. They told us to take anything we wanted from the building. It used to be the arts building on campus. It was a treasure hunt.
Mind you I was doing all of this in my walking shoes. 6 inch blue platform wedges. There my most comfortable shoes and it really wasn't a struggle, but I could tell everyone else was like you are going to die. For some reason there were lockers in this building. It was the oldest building on campus and at some point they decided lockers were necessary.
We also found this ornate green candy dish. It was in one of the lockers for some reason. I don't have any answers for this. I don't think my school has even torn this building down, yet. It's a mess. We ended up finding all of the art in the basement.
All of these spirits are supposed to be in the attic. I don't know why they decided to habitat the same place, but okay. One of the programs I'm in had an annual tradition of telling ghost stories in there for Halloween. I'm sure it was terrifying. I'm just thinking if we tear this building down aren't the spirits going to be in the new building. It's supposed to be finished my junior year and we'll see how well that goes.
The new building is modern and retro and plated with glass and I love it. There was this huge reveal by the President of the new design and I was just like lol one of my teachers showed me these pictures the day you revealed them to the faculty.
I spent the rest of it with the twins, because it was there birthday. And, if you want to know about that, it was the subject of my last Tasty Tuesday.
Link to: Eat A Hamburger
My Place of Business
His brother is just a lot of something. I don't mind working with him, but he's got too much going on. Rumor has it that he dated one of my male coworkers who looks like a cross between neo-nazi and a naked mole rat. Now, I might have started that. At this point I'm really not sure. But, his girlfriend does not like the neo-nazi and his brother told me that some personal things happened between them that he doesn't like him. Now, I'm not saying that means anything. BUT.
Both of this boys respective ex boyfriend and current girlfriend are weird as fuck. I don't like either of them. They make my skin crawl. The funny thing about his girlfriend is how unbridled my aggression is towards her. It's not even shade anymore. It's you literally suck at your job and you are pathetic. She comes into work late and she can't even pay her rent. Her hours got cut recently and I laughed. On the floor, fucking died. Am I terrible person, yes. Do I care? No, because I don't like her.
I talked about this a few months ago during the 12 Days of Bubbles, but one of my now delinquent coworkers had a sex tape. She was fingering herself and everyone at work saw it. Everyone at her school saw it. It was a mess.
My favorite coworker has literally had sex in the back. I'm like oh my god. She's dating this dorky cute guy now and she leaves me early to go spend time with him. I don't know why she doesn't want to be at work. I am more fun then any flaccid dick she is getting with this man. But, I'm not salty about it.
I'm a little salty about it.
Two girls I work with are having intense boy problems. They're both dealing with multiple boys liking them and being jealous and calling them bitches. And, I'm just like this is why you don't date guys with big trucks. I hate their friends and if I'd met them at school I would not have been a fan. But, I love them to death and I want to know why there only ever seems to be one shitty boy in my life. I would enjoy being in a triangle or a trapezoid as some of you are.
At the end of the day my coworkers and I are family. I fucking hate them sometimes, but we still spend time together. And, a little part of me would miss them if they got fired.
Dance. Sex. Tech.
Now at my school no one said anything about what I was wearing. This really sweet octogenarian even told me I looked like a model. Praise her. I will take my compliments where I can get them. Of course I locked myself out of my car. Again. This is the third time in the past month. Normally, I'm not that worried. I can just stay on campus until someone can get me a ride. But, that day I had plans. I had to leave. I shamelessly asked five people to help until my favorite English major was like I got you boo.
She loves James Joyce and honestly I judge for it. I appreciate The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man as a literary achievement, but that doesn't mean I like him. So, Joyce helped me out and we bonded. Talked shit about people had a good time. And , then I got in my car to go.
This is a college campus and I am breaking dress code. Apparently, I can be fined for it. I am showing my midriff. Please calm yourself. You also aren't allowed to swear on their campus. What the fuck is that. And, they have a curfew. What kind of regressive nonsense is that. Their campus is beautiful, but let's be real it's not that beautiful.
Probably the most surprising thing was when we went to this Thai food restaurant. It was amazing. The twins are picky eaters. I did not anticipate them picking this place. We shared everything. We got sushi, crab wontons, some not quite amazing beef skewer things, and this hella fancy french fries with like goat cheese on them or something. It was amazing.
And, the waiters. They were all hot. Practically. They all wore all black and we got the second cutest waiter. At one point they all walked out together and it was a fashion show. They strutted. It was amazing. I was ready to whore myself out and the twins were cleavage bearing. But, I was most certainly the whore of the group.
The twins both had wedges on. Shorter then mine, but they also don't wear them every day like I do. They were like we need to find a place to sit down for a moment. During this process I casually ran into this really cute guy, who most certainly objectified me. It's like I appreciate that you enjoy my flat stomach. But, please calm yourself.
He actually stood behind us for part of the show and Miss Sara Bellum pointed him out to me. She certainly knows my taste in men.
Honestly, being surrounded by cute gay men is kind of my thing. There was so much aesthetic going on. There was this drink server. I think they said his name was Clive. He had on a tight pair of jeans and a crop top with “I Woke Up Like This” blazoned across it. He was even doing the Freddie Mercury mustache. I felt his look.
Of course they were obnoxious as fuck. That's fine. They had this female friend, who I thought was really pretty. The twins did not agree. At one point she threatened to throw her drink at this queen who was lip syncing to “Let It Go”. I honestly felt her. This girl's hair was immaculate. It was straight and blonde. There was not an extra ounce fat on her. Her dress was orange and electric. Her heels were high. I appreciated her.
The actual show itself was pretty amazing. There were four other queens with Pearl. They opened by doing a lip sync to “Lady Marmalade”. The one representing P!NK was on fire. Then, this queen named Princess started to dictate the show. She was funny. She had tattoos. She was amazing. Honestly, what she did is what I wish Pearl had done. At the end of the show I felt like I got to know Princess better then Pearl. All of Princess's lip sync's were on point. Her final one was a mash up of Lily Allen's “Fuck You”, Big Sean's “I Don't Fuck With You”, and Cee Lo Green's “Fuck You”. They all had the corresponding theme of fuck to prove how ladylike she was.
They were more disappointed then I was about not getting the picture. Knowing me I would have looked awkward as fuck and then I would have felt obligated to put it in this blog post. That just wouldn't have worked.
We did struggle to actually get back to their dorms. It doesn't matter that they've lived here for a year at this point. They had no idea how to get home. Do not rely on a GPS to the point where you can't function without it.
My drive home was great. It rained the whole way. But, I had turn up music on the whole time. That Rihanna. That Madonna. That Britney Spears and Lady Gaga. Shout out to them for aiding in my hearing loss. I got home and my parents asked me how the concert was and until that moment I had totally forgot that I told them I was seeing Walk The Moon instead of a drag queen at a gay bar.
My turn up playlist.
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.