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.
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.
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.
A few Saturday's ago now, I worked a charity gala. They had a silent auction, fancy food, and a true live auctioneer later in the night. The women wore black and navy blue. The men looked bored and ratchet. It was a wondrous event.
The day had already started out well. I'd spent the earlier part of the day with The Mayor and Miss Sara Bellum, and their friend they brought home from college. I've told you before that we don't live in the same city anymore and they told me that they were bringing this girl home, I shall call, “Lisa Marie”.
Now, they said I would like her. I was not so sure. I was informed that she did not eat fish, because of some environmental threat or something. Reasonable, yes. Obnoxious, yes because I like my sushi. The real kicker, though was that she didn't like Gwen Stefani's new song “Baby Don't Lie”.
Who is this bitch. That was my question. It turned out it was one of there other roommates who didn't like “Baby Don't Lie” and I actually really liked her. She is cute and adorable and we got Bubble Tea together. Everything, I might add. I even like those tapioca pearls, do not judge me. I just really liked her.
Buy "Baby Don't Lie"
It also didn't hurt that she wanted to read my article on my former blog. I've known the Mayor and Miss Sara Bellum forever, it naturally came up in conversation. Lisa Marie asked the pertinent questions of what happened. I told her there was a four page article dedicated to the whole thing if she wanted to read it.
And, she did. She described it as “intense”. That is about accurate. I only had a constant knot of nerves, the entire time. I should not be blogging if I couldn't convey some of that emotion.
Now, I want to say I donated my time to this event, because I'm a good person. I am a good person, but I wanted to wear red in front of the wealthy upper strata. I learned in psychology you look the most attractive in red. I want to give myself the best possible chances of finding love with a wealthy individual.
It was not meant to be, but I had so much fun. These people were so pretentious. My job for the four hours, while the gala was going on was to clear the tables of the dirty dishes. What even. I loved it. I might add I got free delicious food.
This was a gala mind you. The food was the shit.
My favorite part was the auction. A weatherman from my childhood was the host. I hated this man. I swore I was going to punch him in the face if I ever got the chance. I did not punch him. It was an opportunity missed. He was undeniably sexist in his presentation and he had a pot belly. It made me so happy.
One of the speakers was even the co-anchor on his show. She was this shorty, curvy woman, and might I add she rocked it. Then, I found out from one of my classmates that all of her cards had been declined at the Gap where she worked. The anchorwoman was broke.
At about eleven everything was getting taken down, but some people we're still hovering, so we weren't able to do everything.
That's when this woman, who's an alumni of my school starts talking to us. She was this sophisticated, glamorous woman, and as she's walking away, informs me that she likes my style.
I was shocked. How do you respond to that? Mind you she'd never seen me before, so she didn't know if I had consistent style, but she still said it. As a poor college student, I can't believe I made that impression. I was trying to impress my crush and this woman with the kind of money that doesn't wait for a sale tells me I dress well.
Let me lay my wardrobe out for you. A cheap plain red t-shirt, black skinny jeans from the men's department, that fake couture jacket I got at the Salvation Army, and my dead grandmother's scarf. I was the epitome of ratchet, but it worked.
The director of the program I'm in, even told me on Monday that I looked good. I slayed it and I didn't even know it. Maybe I should turn this into a fashion blog.
LOL, I'm too poor for that.
I will keep you updated on the crush. I'm in that weird phase of, he's all I want to talk about and the only thing I don't want to mention to anyone. I should be seeing him next week, so that's exciting. Keep in my mind that this is a horrible idea. I shouldn't like him. He's older then me. Too old actually, and I don't know. It's a bad idea. I keep telling myself that.
Frat Boys For Disney
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.
Losing My Virgnity
I told my co-worker the day after it happened. We were not really slow at work, but I said to him. I lost my virginity yesterday. As we're both going about our jobs. His response is to fist bump me.. I don't know how exactly I feel about that. So, I clarified to him
I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show last night with Thunder. I'm not a Rocky Horror virgin anymore. He looked at me like I had mislead him. I thought everyone knew about this Rocky Horror virgin scenario. Apparently not.
That Friday was just an uncomfortable day all around. I had a three hour break before I was going to go see Rocky Horror and I could have gone home. On a good day. It might take me twenty-five minutes to get home. But, with traffic. Try an hour. So, needless to say going home just wasn't really a good option.
But, she had class. I wouldn't have gone, but she was like it's right after class. We could go together. And, actually it was in the same classroom that we were in. I'm taking intro to psych and there's a good bit of people in that class, so we use an auditorium.
The meeting was not that bad. It mainly was a discussion of raising awareness and campaigns and volunteering. (Are you doing the pride parade? Not if it's outdoors). But, the president asks us to introduce ourselves, name, major, and what are we most proud of.
Asking trick questions on our first day. I had enough time to prepare. I was in the third row. It shouldn't have been a problem. Everyone else is, I'm proud of my sexuality. I'm proud of who I am. I stand up and I'm like I'm proud of this chair. Because, I'm creative and witty and original.
The speaker could tell how awkward I was and he said “You should be proud of your hair”. And, I wanted to anoint him bae. Bowing down to that man.
For the next two hours after it ends. I end up in the library. Working on the blog as usual. Really if you ever see a skinny, blonde, blogger on a couch in the library every day. It's probably me. Come say hi.
I actually stayed until the library closed, and I went to the place where Thunder and I agreed to meet.
Still blogging outside. Of course. I hear this stampede. A large sweaty group of runners pass by me. And, the funny thing is I recognized one of them by their calves. Whenever he sits down next to me in class, I'm like damn. I wish my calves were like that. If only I was willing to run ten miles a day.
So, the only reason The Rocky Horror Picture Show is popular is because of the interactive experience that is the movie. People shout at the screen. Two characters have “Asshole” and “Whore” thrown at them. The brother and sister had “ELBOW SEX! ELBOW SEX!” directed towards them the whole movie.
When Thunder and I went they had people come up on stage. This one boy dressed up as the title character, Rocky, in his signature gold lame spandex briefs. He thought he was sexy. I suppose he was. But, he was getting on my nerves. Twerking on stage. Being too much all the way around. But that is this movie.
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.