highrise living for a joke like me

My social life is a very strange thing.

Sometimes I'll go days or even weeks without seeing anyone other than the people I live with and the people I work with. And then I'll have a chunk of time when I'm out constantly (by my standards).

Example: Friday N and I went out for Italian food and then went back to her place and played two EPIC games of Scrabble (one with her roommate). Saturday I went to see Coraline with the fam (good, but I thought the 3D was unnecessary). Sunday was the store meeting (summary: I'm taking a paycut, corporate is crazy, and Boss still expects me to do management-level duties even though I was demoted), which doesn't count as social, per se, I know. Yesterday I spent the day running around like a crazy thing (home to Dupont Circle for shrink appointment, Dupont to College Park to hand in the budget, CP to Silver Spring for therapy) and then I met Dad for coffee.

And tonight A is dragging me to the last Ladies' Night at a gay leather bar in DC.

Um...

*goes to shave underarms and make self look presentable*

So, instead of talking about RL stuff (and oh, there's lots of it), I will bitch about television.

Seriously, directors/writers/yadda, what the fuck where you thinking when you ( spoilers for Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles - 2.13 - Earthlings Welcome Here ) Sometimes, I think the more acceptable it is to be LGBT, the worse we're portrayed in the mainstream media.

Bleh.

Now, to try to choke down the rest of my first meal in two days and ignore the excruciating menstrual cramps.

...Lee Pace makes a really hot woman. Oh my God.

Inspired by littpiski and prionz_rok: a list of things to say/do that will guarantee you will NOT get laid (at least by me).

10. Saying that you're good with virgins, trying to do it "wham, bam, thank you, ma'am" anyway, and then when I tell you to maybe try working up to the main event declaring that you won't go down on me because I'm bleeding. Which was your fault in the first place.
10b. Making the exact same mistake when I decide to give you another try.

9. Telling me that your girlfriend is "fine with it" when I know for a fact that you haven't told her. I will not let your punk-ass turn me into the other woman.

8. "This girl I'm interested in said yes to me, so I don't think we should mess around anymore." And during the Yankees season opener, too.
8b. "She dumped me, you want to mess around again?"

7. Don't offer to buy me a drink with that lascivious look on your face. I'm not that kind of girl. And the fact that you think I am seriously fucked your chances.

6. This may be sizeism (not that I care), but if your fat could suffocate someone twice my size, get away from me. I'm not looking for something out of a magazine, I like a girl with curves (and they don't all have to be tits, ass, or hips), but seriously, take some interest in your health.

5. Don't insist on paying for dinner. I'm not going to let you, and the more you fight the angrier I'm going to be.

4. "How old are you?" Yeah, ok, I look 5 years younger than I actually am most of the time. Still, this question is hinky: either you're attracted to me because I look so young, and that's a little scary; or you're concerned about potential legal ramifications, and that's even scarier.
4b. "How old are you?" "Why do you want to know?" "Well, I want to talk to you, but I want to make sure you're...you know." *headdesk*

3. "Are you a *giggle*" "A what?" "*giggle*" "A lesbian?" If you can't say it, you're sure as hell not ready to sleep with one.

2. No, I will not sleep with your girlfriend. Especially if you're planning on watching. Lesbian hunting is skeevy.

And the number one way to not get laid:

1. "You just haven't met the right guy yet." Oh, hell ass balls no.

Ted: I think God appreciates it even more. Because he created you in his image. At least that's what I was always taught. And since God is love and God doesn't make mistakes, then you must be exactly the way he wants you to be. And that goes for every person, every planet, every mountain, every grain of sand, every song, every tear... and every faggot. We're all his, Emmett. He loves us all.

Yes, it's very nice that you want to be edgy and post-modern and martially precise and whatnot. And it's nice that you're donating the money you raise to some group for disabled veterans.

What is not nice is your black uniforms with silver braid, the German techno you were dancing to, and the Iron Crosses on your hats.

In a room that was predominantly gay or otherwise queer.

In a town (city) with a high percentage of Jews.

For serious, what the bloody fucking hell were you thinking?

I'm the first to tell people to forgive and forget, but I definitely spent their entire performance looking frantically for the exit. One of the friends I was with, who is also the grandchild of survivors, was pretty much doing the same thing.

And the woman in the front row who was flipping you off through the majority of your performance? Yeah, she was a surely a bit drunk, but I can definitely see where she was coming from.

If I have nightmares tonight, I certainly know who I'm blaming.

No love,
Me

So, I was going to write a thing for National Coming-Out Day, especially since it's thereabouts my three-year anniversary of when I started coming out to people in the first place, but my lame-ass wrist has decided to go on strike. I suspect I'll write said post in a few days -- assuming I remember -- but here's a basic overview of what this post would have been:

- something about the navel-gazing internal process
- something about the process of coming out to friends (and picking who to tell)
- something about my lame-ass campus
- something about my continuing struggle with the bits of my brain that want to be bisexual¹
- something about my family
- something pithy² and inspiring

If any of you actually want to read this, poke at me in about a week if I haven't posted it yet.
______
¹Disclaimer: I am not a bi-hater, I've just been flipping back and forth because parts of me think they should be aroused by men, and just aren't in practice.
²Dude, I only learned that word 'pithy' came from the pith of an orange this past weekend. theemdash, if you're reading this, the grammarians should totally do an article/column about word origins. Because it would be omg so cool.

Oh, Montgomery County, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Take that, Coach Farner, Mr. "A Penis is Only Supposed to Go One Place". I was so tempted at the time to inquire about his views on oral. :D

(Took you bloody long enough, though...)