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.
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.
I'm packed. I'm showered. My hair has been done up and I would even argue that I'm well rested. In twenty minutes I'm about to leave to pick up the twins and we're going to start our road trip. God help us all.
I found the exhibit to be fascinating. I can't deny that I'm actually obsessed with his love affair with wife Julia (Julie?). It was certainly more entertaining then I expected.
In other news. We checked into our hotel to find out that protests are taking place Downtown.
Our trip marked the one year anniversary of the slaying of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. The day before our arrival police officers put eighteen year old Tyrone Harris into critical condition after they exchanged gun fire with one another. The day we arrived friendly protestors were arrested outside of the federal courthouse in St. Louis. Later 30 protestors stopped traffic on I-70. Ferguson was everywhere. Our plans were just not feasible.
In true upper middle class fashion we escaped to a suburban retreat and obliviously drank our blackberry caramel frappuccino's while Natalia Kill's crooned over the loudspeaker at the Coffee Cartel that never closes.
My favorite store was 10Denza. I loved practically everything in it. Even the eight hundred dollar leather jacket. As the clerk mentioned we were lucky as they were having a sale. A cute patterned cobalt sweater I would spend thirty on was marked down to sixty. Down from a 108. The entire store was full of cute gay boy chic and enhanced feminine style. I loved it. My bank account not so much. The twins obnoxious friend would have loved it. I'm convinced he had floral patterned polo shirt in that exact shade of coral.
Our dinner was spent at the Kingside Diner. A glamorous and hip reasonably priced getaway across the street from a Guiness Record holding chess piece. It was the largest in the world.
We took an hour break from human interaction with another. Followed it up with a bag of Cheez-It's two rounds of Zero. Miss Sara Bellum won the first round, me the second. Then, we played Blokus and I won. Fumbling through Tinder we casually had Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen on. I realized I was Lindsay Lohan and the twins were her best friend. Miss Sara Bellum flirted with a boy with tattoos. He was a mix between Pearl and Violet Chachki and he had a certain porn star quality about him.
That's what love is built on.
I've been asleep for less then three hours and I've never been more awake in my life. I'm now locked in the bathroom updating my social media. From what I can tell the twins aren't sleeping that much better either.
I have taken the twins virginity.
After breakfast we drove up to Six Flags over St. Louis, which isn't even in the same county. It was a pleasant drive. The line to get in was extensive. It's the last week of school before the native St. Louis children are going back to school. It was a joy.
Miss Sara Bellum's favorite ride was what I will describe as the scrambler. It was frequented by six years old. The three of us barely fit into one car and the ride operator serenaded us with “Let It Go”. It was magical.
As a group we only participated in one more ride. The water themed rapids Thunder River. The twins took part in the carousel. I took part in two more roller coasters. The Mine Train and The Boss. I never did get to go upside down.
Most of our day was spent in the water park. Disappointingly enough there was not a single attractive male. There was one exception of the Under Armour hugging twenty year old. He was gorgeous, although it's always so hard to tell when people have on sunglasses. Gorgeous women abounded. Even without our glasses on we could tell.
We realized very quickly that the three of us would have to deal with the potential loss of our glasses. The only tension we had was when we were deciding where to go, but couldn't see anything. We went down slides. Almost drowned in the artificial tidal waves one of the beach areas produced. It was anything if boring.
Six Flags doesn't disappoint. I hate to admit that there was a special place in my heart for the Lazy River. I could have spent all day there. Just not eight dollars for a tube rental. It was a little steep.
The ride was terrifying. I can't tell you what it was, but I was horribly sad. Our day at Six Flags was over. It was almost as if I was emotionally drained. It was as if Summer was over. The drive back to our hotel was difficult. I've never felt so incomplete. We had on Lana Del Rey. That certainly didn't help anything. I don't know it might be that I haven't cried recently, but I was overwhelmed. I'm still frustratingly saddened.
Miss Sara Bellum ordered a steak frites (delicious), The Mayor got a strawberry Nutella crepe (essentially a bottle of Nutella with carbs), and I got a Veggie Burger. There was ginger root on it. The ranch I dipped my french fries was homemade. God is real and he lives at Rooster.
The follow up and conclusion will be posted next Wednesday.
That's the day I do mostly everything in my life. There's something about a Wednesday. I spent the better part of this day with one of my favorite people from college. She has red hair just like Jenny and I think I must be attract friendships with red heads. Still she has a blonde aura about her. She's a blondie at heart.
The most exciting part of Urban Outfitters was their vinyl collection. The only place to go when you want all of the days hit records on vinyls. Beyonce's self titled set was there for fifty dollars, the exclusive Lana Del Rey Ultraviolence was there. The cover sported a sexy knee and the vinyls were translucent. Still. Not thirty five dollar cool. Taylor Swift's 1989 was on the wall, obscure indie bands had their place in between Ed Sheeran's X and the Muse's latest release Drones.
The most surprising find was this little antique store. The antiques for the most part were inconsequential. There was a vinyl selection. Three dollars each and in among the pile was Olivia Newton-John's Have You Never Been Mellow and Linda Ronstadts iconic Simple Dreams.
They were perfect for my burgeoning record collection that includes Ricky Nelson, Elvis Presley, and The Sound of Music soundtrack. All of which were part of one of my not so recent videos “The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of... Shut Up I'm Trying To Talk Here.”
It was while traipsing down a tree covered boulevard that we discovered a quaint little coffee shop that could only be found in a city. It was cavernous. Expansive. Not surprisingly empty considering it was 3:00. We sat down gazed at the board. Finally settled on what to get. Blondie got a Mocha Frappucino (?) and I got a wonderful iced grean tea latte. It was perfect.
I finally got home. I'd made the decision to let my mother in on these shoes. I've had them for a while now. It just wasn't something I've shared with her. They are certainly my most conservative. And, I said to myself today is the day. I'd prepped her on the fact that I'd wanted to be taller then Boomer.
I showed them to her and she called me a “cross dresser” (this was following an encounter where I had on a shirt with a peter pan collar). Needless to say I believe I'm going to succeed in being the family disappointment one more year in row. So, that's exciting. I think I'm even running unopposed.
Now the actual trivia was questionable. Team Name: 50 States of Beyonce. We didn't win best team name surprise of all surprises. We also got dead last place. Not kind of last place. We hardcore lost. It was really great. We left our team name off of one of the ballots, because we were doing so bad. I'm so ashamed that Beyonce had to be linked to our ineptitude.
Usually after a night on the town. We go to Walgreens. However, we decided to live on the wild side and go to Target. I think the Mayor bought starbursts?
It was really productive. A solid night.
The problem is that I don't know if our relationship is normal. Is this how boys are friends with each other. He makes me feel really shitty sometimes. All the time actually. He makes me feel like I'm not good enough to be his friend. That I'm just someone that he doesn't hate, but he doesn't really want to spend time with.
He really doesn't talk to me if other people are around. And, all of his friends are girls. We would probably be better friends if I had a vagina. I'm just never good enough for him.
Elle Woods has her Warner. He's my Warner. I suppose I know the answer to my question. We're not friends. He treats me badly and he makes me want to die all the time. I don't even know what that is. Men are just really terrible people. I hate them. Don't be friends with boys.
The only thing I can imagine that's holding me back is that I don't feel like he does it on purpose. I don't feel like he does it on purpose. I don't really know what I think. I've been avoiding Warner recently. Which, is really hard considering I see him every day. I just don't want to talk to him. I do want to talk to him. I want to tell him how I feel, but that's not what boys do is it? They don't talk about their feelings. I don't know.
He's also a terrible person to tell something to. I told him I was insanely jealous of this person and he responded by telling me “but he's awesome”. Makes me want to punch someone in the face. I am expressing my jealousy. Not trying to find out that even one more person thinks he's awesome. Warner also told me that one of my shirts looks like it has acne on it. Rude. Everyone else liked it, but this little bitch tells me that.
Is this what boys do. Is he kidding with me. I don't know. I'm just hurt and upset. The answer to my question is pretty obvious. We're not friends. Friends don't make other friends feel like shit. I enjoy his company and that's it. That's our relationship.
He never replies to me. I'll be like do you want to do something and he just won't respond. I'm not expecting a yes, but a no would be nice. A, I didn't see this in time or I have other plans would be nice. Is it really that much to ask for a common courtesy.
Nothing dramatic has happened. I realize I titled today's article “Shattered and Hollow”, but it's just a First Aid Kit song I really like. I've been listening to it a lot recently. I shamelessly quoted it on twitter a while ago and didn't even acknowledge that I stole it.
I've also been listening to this Katy Perry song “Love Me”. I don't know why I've been feeling the need to feel empowered by break up songs, since I'm not even going through a break up, but that is life.
Buy "Love Me"
The thing is I don't actually know him. He just has the same name as the boy I know. They both look freakishly alike. The one my coworker knows is cuter, but that's hardly the point. The one I know just recently came out as gay. He went from “I'm not gay” to “I have a boyfriend” and I honestly thought that was really funny. It was just such a sharp role reversal.
My coworker and I determined that it was not the same person, but when I went into her place of business I saw him. And, I was so awkward, I was legit staring. I was trying to find his name tag and surprise of all surprises it was exactly who I thought it was.
So, that's the story.
In other exciting news I gave a speech on suicide, so if you've ever wanted to know someone who has a long list of statistics memorized regarding suicide, I am here for you.
It's honestly sad that it's been two weeks and this is all I have. A crop top and the story of me awkwardly staring at a stranger. I was so obvious that he actually remembered me doing it. Palm to the face. I'm never going to see him again, but I want strangers to think I'm awesome and not creepy.
Better luck next time. What is exciting is that tomorrow there is going to be a special Throwback Thursday and the not so big Bubble Righted reveal is going to happen.
Everyone always talks about the actual coming out, but no one seems to tell you about the fall out. The fall out is still falling. And, I have to say it's kind of shitty. I'm trying to just laugh at it, but my parents are saying the most homophobic things. They also funny enough think they were the first people I told.
Like, LOL. No. Literally everyone else knew before you. You just didn't want to know. I feel like I'm handling it well. I already knew I would disappoint them. I already knew what they would say. It's just new actually having them say it.
Both my father and mother have told me at length that “I chose this”. No one would choose to be discriminated against. I don't particularly like being made to feel uncomfortable in public when I'm alone. I don't enjoy that. I wish I could just go in the stores and buy things, but instead I order things online.
They have also already decreed how me and the nonexistent boyfriend will act if I bring him home. We are not to kiss in front of them. As if I was planning on making out in front of my parents. We cannot hold hands or make any physical contact. We are not allowed to sit close to each other.
I'm just like how about we don't even sit in the same room as each other, and maybe we shouldn't breath when we're in each others presence. If they truly think I would subject any boyfriend to this they are out of their minds. I guess they're doing their best to be open about this, but I'm still looking at them side eyed.
My mother has also already started calling this fictional boyfriend a “friend”. I told her that she would call him my boyfriend. I am dating him. Do not decrease his significance, because it makes you uncomfortable. I was informed that I was pushing her too hard. No. I sit here and listen to all of your homophobic nonsense. This however is about someone else. My future boyfriend doesn't deserve this.
I was informed that I knew I was gay too young. I'm sorry. I told you when I was eighteen and your questioning that I knew I was gay when I was ten? What is that. They have also started to shift away from blaming themselves for my gayness to blaming pop culture.
Lady Gaga and Madonna made me gay. No, they didn't. I knew I was gay at 10. I was watching Chuck and Scooby Doo. The gayest shows out there. I started buying music Freshmen year of High School and that consisted of Sheryl Crow and Hilary Duff. Before that my life consisted of Christian radio and Celine Dion. Come on family.
There are too many gays on TV. Mind you both have said they are not 'homophobic'. We treat gay people right. I had a gay friend once. Okay. Thanks. Your token gay friend doesn't mean your not homophobic. Both of my parents are.
My father also suggested that porn is why I'm gay. We just got functioning internet this summer. I was not watching porn. Shout out to everyone who watches porn, but I'm very old fashioned. I read my porn. I just could not handle him.
It is nice having it out in the open, but instead of realizing internally that they hate me, I just hear it instead. I don't think they're ever going to change. My mother went out to get coffee with her friend who also has a gay son. Surprised she didn't come home with a Christian self help book on how to fix your gay kid.
I love knowing that they think there's something wrong with me, and if they just wait it out long enough. It will go away. I will realize that I love women and that this whole time the media mislead me.
My mother also totally put together who my crush is. That was funny. And, she did say she can't imagine me having sex with another man. I told her I hoped she didn't see me having sex with anyone.
At the moment I have to be the strong one who lets them come to terms with it. I've had eight years. They've only had a month. I'm just not sure how long I have to support them before I call them out on all their shit.
There was something I wanted to write about or more accurately tell you about. Because, there's a point where no matter how much your friends like you they want you to shut the fuck up about something. This thing hasn't happened, yet. And, I don't even know if it's going to happen. I'm trying to be calm, cool, collected. None of which I am, and if it doesn't happen I'll tell you anyway. I will be heartbroken.
I am on Christmas break at the moment. Needless to say nothing is happening to me. I'm exceedingly dull. I don't do anything. Everyone else is out chilling with friends, making out with their boyfriends, and I'm sitting at home crying about how happy this book makes me.
The only thing I can think of is the Christmas gathering I had. You can call it a party if you want, but the only shots people took were of water. I would love to say it was a resounding success, but it wasn't. It was actually a hot ass mess. That's what it was.
My mother was in a vengeful mood and she ate an entire tray cookies I made and casually mentioned how I had to remake those. You know I made all the food with my questionable cooking talents. I don't know what I did to upset her, but I did something. That was not kosher. I was like this bitch. Needless to say I did remake them and no one ate them. It was really tragic.
Two people were also obnoxiously early and they are always late. Not as if I mind. But, that was the day Madonna dropped her pre-release with the six new songs. I was just through breaking down to “Living For Love” when the doorbell rang. It was fine. We talked and I love them.
Other people trickled in and I had a good fifteen people there. Two people were not there, even though they said they were coming. I was confused. I don't know why one of them didn't come, but the second one said her uncle died. This is Jenny by the way and I was like that was fine. Then, she sends me an e-mail that tells me she dropped off my present and the man didn't seem to appreciate it. I don't know if she was kidding. I was too afraid to ask.
A real problem was that people weren't mixing. I know not everyone knows each other. That's why you play party games. What I do every time. Five people refused to play a game. I was like what the fuck. These are group games. Get the fuck over it and pick a side and calm yourself. Whatever. We didn't play a game.
Thunder informed me that she would have played Pictionary, but that she didn't like party games. I consider Pictionary a party game and I was like whatever. The moment has passed. I mean Sacajawea and her boy toy sat on the couch grasping at each other all night anyway. The only person who really wanted to play a game was me. I just feel like I was a horrible host not mingling with the masses.
The party if you want to call it that really ended about 8:30. People came at 5:00 or later and left at 8:30 or earlier. Do you ever just feel like the charity friend. Like people only humor your presence, because they feel bad for you. That is my relationship with these people, I have to make the plans or there are no plans. I was an emotional train wreck at the beginning of this semester and the only people I saw were the twins. They forced me to go out. No one else took there time out to see me. I realize some of these people don't even live in the same city anymore, but fall break comes around. Not acknowledged.
I might be over thinking it, but I have a really rocky relationship when it comes to friends. I really shouldn't be so offended. I don't consider most of these people friends. There just people I enjoy spending time with. That's not the same thing as a friend.
One weird thing that happened is that Thunder called me a liar. Not really a big deal. None of these people were really under the impression I was a saint. I am the person who had borderline pneumonia, but tells everyone I had pneumonia. She was leaving with her sister J. Lo and we were talking about these girls who were dating. Specifically, I said they were dating.
Thunder informs me that I am lying and not to make things up. To say they were dating may have been an over exaggeration, but these girls were not just friends. They sat on the couch I was sitting on and fondled each other in front of me. They sat at lunch together and when they broke up they no longer sat next to each other. They were something if they weren't dating.
It didn't phase me. It's when the party ends and I check my e-mail that I see that I got something from her saying she was sorry for calling me a liar. Then, proceeds to explain that she was under a lot of stress.
I replied back and told her it was fine. Whenever you justify why you did something it's not an apology. It means you still think you were right and that you had good reason. As I said it didn't bother me. People have said a lot worse things about me then calling me a liar.
Being the basic ass bitch I am, I put this on twitter. Thunder doesn't even have twitter on her phone, but some how she saw it and I got another e-mail apologizing for justifying her actions. It was passive aggressive of me. I shouldn't have made her feel like shit over something I literally didn't give a fuck about. At the same time I didn't feel the need to coddle her.
I say all of this and I wonder why I don't have friends.
Speaking of that it was very interesting to see Rosencrantz and J. Lo shacked up together on the couch talking away. I knew they were friends again, but it was strange. Last year J. Lo ignored every single one of her friends for this one girl. Both Rosencrantz and I told her how that made us feel and how we wanted her to spend more time with us.
J. Lo changed nothing. Not a single thing. We told her how we felt and she didn't give it a second thought. Apparently Rosencrantz has forgiven her.
It's not even that I haven't forgiven her it's just that I don't think of her as a friend anymore. You don't ignore a friend or push them to the side because someone better comes along. She can't fix it. I still like spending time with her, but she's a shitty friend. I wish I was like Rosencrantz, just so able to forget and move on.
It just made feel so replaceable. That's why people kill themselves. It's not that they don't think someone loves them or that there aren't people who care about them. It's that these same people will move on and find someone better then you. It's horrifying to realize how much someone doesn't need you.
That said after the real party inhabitants left I was left with the three introverts. A great group to hold a conversation with and these three people stayed and chatted with me until 11:30. It was really great. I loved getting to talk to them like that. It wasn't the success I imagined, but I think it worked out in the best way possible. I loved it.
Let me tell you about October.
It is a horrible month. This is the month of Halloween and breast cancer awareness. I am emotionally scarred and at the same time very appreciative of an event I succumbed to. One of the sororities on campus's did a beauty pageant of Disney princesses in order to raise money for Breast Cancer awareness.
Except, they had the fraternities become the princesses.
And, at 6:30 I am there on campus to meet Jenny in the lobbyish area of her dorm building. She is late. To her own building. She walks in after me leaving me there uncomfortably with all these rude boys playing ping pong with Starbucks in her hands. Hello, bitch.
The, event started late. It was supposed to start at 7:00. 7:20 that has not happened. So, Jenny and I are sitting there together. Not really a group, but just sitting there talking.
When this large group of blondes is walking towards us. We know all of them. I am going to be sociable, acknowledge the fact that I know my English class. Who also happen to be the people we spent the weekend with. They refuse to look at us.
They think now that they are part of a sorority that they are popular. No you are not. You have a clique, a group of people your welcome in. That does not give you any room to ignore two people. If they think that won't be on the back of my mind every time they ask for something. They are very mistaken. Rude.
Of course the very gay boy from our English class also ignored us and he sat on the same row as us. Along with a small group of straight boys. I don't know how he managed that. Kudos to you. With, him it doesn't surprise me that he didn't wave or say hello. He is 'popular'. People think he's so funny. He isn't. To me. He just makes me uncomfortable. So, I am fine with him choosing not to acknowledge to the sexiest people in the room.
The show starts with a choreographed dance. These frat boys were not prepared for this. I wasn't prepared for this. It was horrible.
The swimsuit competition was worse. Considerably worse. I didn't expect this to be part of the night. At all. I already knew they weren't attractive. This did not help anything. This is also where they finally introduce who all of the princesses are. There was so much cultural appropriation going on. Mulan was black. Tiana from The Princess and the Frog was white as hell. Snow White or someone like that was black. It was just rough all the way around. In a hundred years, I need video of this never to be found.
The talent part of the competition was rough. Some tried singing. Some tried a little dancing. One boy DJ'd. Cringing. Mulan was great. Apparently he did martial arts and he went for it. It was a moment of slay Mulan slay. That boy looked a lot like Miss J from America's Next Top Model. I wanted to him to win. He did not.
There was one boy who was Jane from Tarzan and he had this whole skit. It was not funny. It was basically Jane trying to understand football. Others laughed. I did not. The only skit that worked was Cinderella's. She danced, she swept, It was beautiful. She got picked up by Prince Charming.
This is where you knew it was a straight boy. His legs were all open. Slut. Close your legs to married men.
The final portion revolved around a Q&A. They were all themed questions. The boy who played Tinkerbell killed it. He rehearsed, he practiced it, and he nailed it.
Interviewer: What do you like best about Neverland?
Tinkerbell: All, the pretty little boys.
It might have been funnier in person.
The one that got me was Rapunzel. She answered her question in a feminine voice as she did in all other parts of the competition. Then, when asked if she had any facts about breast cancer, he used his regular voice.
It was my math tutor. I didn't recognize him until he dropped his voice. I have been tutored by a drag queen. All of a sudden I wanted him to win.
He did not. Jane did. That cunt. I was not here for it. I did not like Jane. I wanted Mulan. I wanted Rapunzel. But, no because the all male judging panel thought the football skit was funny, she won. That skinny bitch.
Rapunzel did get third. It was horrible way to the end the night.
Will I go next year? I don't know. I still need time to recover.
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.