Wasted Wednesdays

Hey, remember that time I got arrested? I do. In order to get that expunged from my record, I have this fun little "Substance Abuse" class every Wednesday night. It sounds like it should be miserable, but more often then not it just cracks my shit up.

The first class, I just sat there with a bitchface on and my arms crossed, trying to keep from arguing that I shouldn't even be there. But by now (three classes in) I just take it in stride. The girl teaching it is like, my age. She's not too psyched to be there either, and her knowledge of what she's supposed to "teach" us is pretty marginal. For example, she describes the effects of a hangover as the opposite of the effects of alcohol. "So, you know, if alcohol makes you relaxed, after that wears off you'd feel...what?" "anxious?" "Yeah, and if alcohol decreases your reaction time, a hangover would...?" "Increase your reaction time?" "Right" Wait, what?

My favorite thing about this class is how a phrase can mean something so different in there. A "really fun binge drinking activity" does not mean Flip Cup, it means a handout. Last night, playing Drug Jeopardy, I got to say things like, "I'll take Ecstacy for $100"

I like to have fun with the class a little bit. Sometimes I'm, just obnoxious and point out the fundemental problems with the research presented, sometimes I just ask retarded shit, like how to make crystal meth. I also enjoy fucking with stupid kids in the class. We have all these little team exercises, and I want to lose every single one. "What are two long term side effects of ecstacy?" Um, it's totally overrated? My group huddles to caucus but no one can come up with anything. I can't resist. "You know, I heard, if you have sex on ecstacy you can never have an orgasm again!" The other girl's eyes light "Ooooh that's a good one!" She raises her hand "Umm erectile...I mean, impotance?" The teacher looks at her like she's retarded. I sit back and smile. The girl looks at me accusingly. Bwah ha ha. "Dude, I didn't say that." Some guy raises his hand, "So for girls it would be like, menstrual....stuff?" Wow that's not even close. The whole class sort of falls apart and I am so proud of myself.

I wish she would ask something like "What's everyone doing this week?" so I could tell her I'm going to a wine tasting tonight and am clearly too cool for this class.

Weekend

This weekend, my boyfriend and my mom came to stay with me, in my apartment. When I told people my plans, they'd say, "Won't that be a little... awkward?" I'd say, "Yeah, isn't it great? I live for this shit." I've reached this really great point where I'm confident and happy with my relationship with him and with my mom that I couldn't imagine anything going badly. Awkward, yes, but not irreperably so.

It would seem like an odd arrangement, to have sex while your mom is in the next room. But more than that it was unfamilliar (but not uncomfortable) to be flirty and affectionate with my mom watching. She absolutely loved it, I think she found it really entertaining. And although S was careful to ask what was allowed before hand ("can I kiss you in front of your mom? are we allowed to sleep in the same bed?") once it was clear that this was all ok he was completely comfortable, and for that I have to give him huge props.

My mom didn't hesitate to call us out, in jest. In the car she said "Oh you guys don't wanna sit in the back together and make out?" (like my brother and his girlfriend do) "I guess if you can actually sleep together you don't need to do that." I love that rather than turning red and thinking, oh my mom is so embarssing! I just smile and kind of love the fact that my mom calls it like it is.

Then we went to meet the advisor and his wife, and everyone had a great time. S said, "After meeting him, I have to call bullshit on all your stories."
"What? Why? I've never said anything that wasn't true, what don't you beleive?'
"Oh no I believe it's all true, but it's not malicious at all, they've just adopted you like a daughter and he cares about you and your mom, he's been so lucky financially and he just wants to share that."
"Yeah. That's....what I said."
"Well, I was worried, but he's a great guy."

I used to keep this boy a secret. It's such a releif to have everyone like each other, and I jsut feel lucky to have all these people who care about me together.

X mas

Around the middle of October, Christmas stuff started creeping up in stores, and I couldn't have been more excited. I'm the rare person who loves all things Christmas and has nothing against drawing it out as long as possible. The first sighting of the Starbucks Gingerbread Latte makes me want to jump up and down. I dragged my mom out early in the morning the weekend after Thanksgiving to get a tree, I had a burst of energy that fueled a day of light stringing and garland hanging and of course cookie baking. I can't wait to get home and make cookies and cakes and candies and wrap presents and drink yummy holiday cocktails...

Christmas, like me, is all about indulgence. Indulging yourself and other people. I mean, it's all about presents and eating and drinking and parties... It's the sexiest holiday, I just want to run around in my red lace boyshorts and a Santa hat baking cookies and fucking in front of a fireplace.

One-A-Day Sluts

My favorite class by far right now is Advanced Biochem, and not just because the prof is one of the few young, funny, female teachers in the chem department. It's also for the fun and useful info. Yesterday our teacher, a confirmed lush, explained that if you were gonna get really really drunk, a day or two before you should load up on vitamin B. Dully noted. A little cartoon thought buble appeared over my head... a multivitamin designed for my needs!

1) Vitamain B- component of enzyme that detoxifies you of alcohol so you wake from your night of binge drinking feeling refreshed and not like vodka is coming out of your pores

2) Vitamin E- To ward off that dull, gray skin that comes from smoking and drinking and boning all night instead of sleeping.

3) Caffiene- Of course.

4) Cranberry Extract- I used to get UTIs like every time I had sex. Might be because every time I have sex I have it like, all night long. I have a problem with moderation. A day after I'd feel it coming on and be like, on campus where for some reason there is no cranberry juice to be found! My mom picked up on this, and bought me a big jar of cranberry extract capsules at Costco. I take a few before I fool around, and for the following 2 days. Haven't had a hint of a UTI.

Obviously this pill would be like, the size of a golf ball but I think it's a cool idea.

New York!

We had a lovely time in New York. Went to West Village Friday night, ran around to different bars, flirted with guys and drinking and then going to the bathroom and not coming back. I didn't pay for any drinks, this is awesome. We didn't really meet anyone interesting, and we noticed that we were both changing the way we talked, more "likes" and "you knows" and no big words. I stopped telling people I was a Chemistry major or that I was planning on going to grad school, I just made up random stuff. We started talking to two guys from the Cayman Islands at one lounge and we had some trouble getting away. I don't know why guys think they have to lay it on so thick. After talking for a few minutes, he's asking me what it would take to get me to fly in for the next weekend. I'm not going to pretend that I would do it, and I don't wanna argue about it, stop being such a leech. He says, "Have you ever dated a black guy before?"
"No...."
"Yeah I can tell!'
"What? What do you mean, how can you tell?"
"You're looking at me like I'm crazy!"
"Well thats cause you're saying crazy shit!"

The next night I wanted to go to the East Village. I'd seen all these cool weird bars that I thought it would be fun check out. We ran around to a few bars, but they were all full of little groups of people who didn't want to meet random girls. I can't really blame them. We decided we didn't feel like paying for our drinks so we went to the hotel bar. I felt a little lame for going to a hotel bar but it was really pretty and I sort of liked how hooker-ish it felt to hang out at a hotel bar in a slutty dress getting 35 year old out-of-town guys to spend money on us. While we were there we met some very good looking Federal Agents, in town for the Iran Presdient's visit to the UN. This is a good demographic- sexy, succesful, fun guys who would be married if they weren't too busy rocking the shit out of their jobs. Hmm I know a guy like that...

The next morning my dad came to see us for a little while. He was in Long Island, with his mistress. Yeah. Earlier last week he asked if I would be ok with meeting her. I said no, I wasn't comfortable. He's only recently moved out of the house, and I'm in no hurry to meet the woman who convinced him to adandon his wife and kids. We come down to the lobby and guess who is with him! Great. In spite of all the shots of top-shelf liquor the night before and my disgust at being ambushed like that, I managed not to vom all over her leathery fake-baked face. Instead I focused on the little turquoise box sitting in front of her. I was well behaved and polite and appreciative, even as they talked about how much fun they had picking it out together at the Tiffany's in Long Island. Gross.

Other than that, fantastic weekend.

Bars

I work in a bar this semester. I'm not 21, not till friday (more on that later...) so I've never really been in a bar. I work in the kitchen so it's not like I actually interact with drunk people, I just make drunk food. I actually like it a lot. Working in the kitchen is really unlike every other part of my life. i'm dirty and smelly and I have no makeup on and I probably have some sort of sauce in my hair. I don't see a mirror for 6-8 hours. I know that's a lame thing to think about, but I see all these pretty girls prancing around in heels and skirts looking turned out for a night of bar hopping and I look like someone vommed on me. I'm a little bitter.

Friday the power went out, so the kitchen shut down but the bar kept going. I went out there to wait for the power to come back, and I have never been hit on so much in my life, by a wide range of men. I had more drinks sent to me than I could possibly drink. It didn't even seem like they were being ironic or taking pity on me. Guys were coming out of no where to talk to me! The pretty girls were actually getting mad that they were being ignored. I can't stress enough that I looked like shit. The lighting was bad, the power was out and we were lit by candles and flashlights and emergecy exit signs but you could still see the stains on my shirt and the sweat on my face, I still looked a damn mess.

I'm not super hot, really. A 6 or a 7. I don't stand out, I'm not the girl guys try to talk to at the party. (I usually try to tell myself that this is because, like many "curvy" girls, I look a lot better naked than in clothes.) But apparantly I was shit-hot when I was rocking greasy hair and a dirty wifebeater. What the hell man? I'm not complaining, I love free drinks from sexy boys telling me I'm beautiful.

But what was going on? Was it that I looked very approachable? Did I look more "real"? Did I just stand out in a room full of turned out sorority girls? Did all that french fry grease give me an alluring glow? Did I look like I needed someone to rescue me?

This weekend my best friend and I are going to New York for my 21st birthday. Gonna get dressed up and go to bars and clubs I can't really afford. I'd really like to just have fun talking to random guys in bars, but I think I might have less luck with that when I'm all sexed up and pretty in a bar in Manhattan than when I'm dirty and sweaty in a college bar here.


BTW: Any New York bar or club suggestions are appreciated, my friend and I are not very cool.

Staying in For a While

Back at school, I've been very well-behaved. I haven't been going out, or drinking, or smoking, eating like, fish and vegetables every day, going to the gym constantly. I decided to stop being so lame for one night and actually went to a party, looking all leggy and tan and blonde with a water bottle filled with Target Sauvignon Blanc. After a few rounds of flip cup, my bottle of wine, and a variety of shots, I ended up across the street and somehow wrapped up in a very sexy boy.

How does this shit happen? It seems to be independent of my intentions, circumstances just align that way, a perfect storm of looking good, having just the right kind of buzz, and that random burst of flirtatiousness. Where does this come from? Do I have no self control? We just kept making out, and then ended up in his car. In retrospect, it wasn't very secluded, but once I got started I couldn't stop. (I'm really bad at making out without kicking it up to a higher level.) My hand wrapped around his dick, and once you do that there's no going back. I'm hooked.

"I want to take you somewhere....tell me where to take you." For some reason, everything this boy said was making me want him. He grabbed my hips and pulled me into him. "I really wanna fuck the shit out of you." And see, for some reason, that killlled me. He must have realized it was turning me on to an irrational degree, cause he said it about 4 times between the party and my house, as I was half directing him but unable to get off his dick. This boy was addictive, everything I did got more and more of a reaction, and I'm a sucker for positive feedback.

When we get to my house, I see the flashing red and blue lights out of the corner of my eye. I straighten up and the cop comes over to the window. "You made some wrong turns, are you lost? Have you been drinking?" He takes my boy away as I look on, stunned, thinking, 'but I want you to fuck the shit out of me!' I figure out that that's not happening and I decide I should cut my loses and get my drunk as inside my house.

No such luck. Blocked by the woman cop! "Have you been drinking?" I figure it's best not to lie. yes. "How many drinks?" "3 or 4?" "We're gonna need you to take a field sobriety test." This is where I went wrong, I should have said no, I should have not brought my ID with me, I should have not given her my ID. I failed the standing on one foot test (it's hard, ok?) and I blew a 1.85. Awesome.

"Officer, this is my apartment, I'm about to go inside. I'll be 21 in 2 weeks, I don't have anything on me, I'm about to go home and go to bed"
"But you're outside, you stepped out of the car, of your own free will. You're under arrest for being drunk in public and underage possesion of alcohol" I'm handcuffed and pushed into a car with a little more force than I thought was necessary.
"Are we going to the police station?"
"No missy, I'm taking you to jail!"
"Shit, really?"
"Yes, really."

We drive for like 40 minutes, I can't stop talking, mostly I'm telling her how bad I feel for the poor boy who thought he was just just getting some road head and some good hard boning. I didn't say that, although I thought about it. "You see, if he was swerving it might not have been cause he was drunk, it might be because he looked about to blow a load all over his steering wheel." I at least had the presence of mind not to add Lewd Behavior to my list of offenses.

At the jail they take all my shit, they take my hair out of the braids and won't let me have my hair tie. I look disasteous. She asks for my earrings. "I'm not wearing earings" "Yes, you are." "Oh yeah, these! I'll get em back right? I love them" Yeah I'm a little drunk. She makes me wear a giant smock thing, with some comments about my revealing outfit. Bitch it's like 85 degrees at night, and I look hot as shit. They take mug shots and send me to a room with some other derelicts. We are not to talk to each other. after 2 hours we're each locked in seperate cells with a seatless toilet and a bench. It's the coldest room I've ever been in. They let us out at 11 am to get some water. They keep me there till 4. I got 3 new zits and no sleep. I never saw the sexy boy, I don't know what they did to him but it's breaking my heart that he's got an underage DUI because of me.

Anti-Feminist Agenda

Being home means lots of bonding with my mom. She and my dad have just separated, and that's pretty much all we talk about. Sometimes it's fascninating and sometimes I'm so bored I want to die. She is very much of a different generation, and it's not that she's more traditional, it's more that in her attempt to be progressive, she lost what I would consider common sense. Things that should be obvious are somehow groundbreaking.

She tells me, "You know, I read in one of my books" (these fucking books are everywhere, with the most embarassing titles splashed across the front) "...that it is important for men to have a wife that is attractive, and also that they want for other people to think she is attractive." Imagine that. "And also, it's not that they just want sex all the time, which, oh god they do, it's terrible..." (Really? Terrible?) "...but they really want to think that you like having sex with them!"

I try to be nice, this is so hard for her, but sometimes I can't help but stare in disbeleif when she says these things. I said, "Well, yes, I would imagine so. I....I mean, I wouldn't know"

She says, "I bet that for a man, if a woman really loved having sex with him, he'd marry her in an instant. She'd never have to worry about anything because he would never leave her if she really always wanted to have sex with him."

I didn't know what to say. I think I said something along the lines of, "Oh I'm sure that's an oversimplification, I don't know about that." How could she even say that? I guess it's a convenient theory for her. It would be much easier for her to blame her lack of interest in sex than something more fundementally wrong, something she cared about more. I think she considered sex with her husband a form of subjugation, maybe she felt very liberated by not having to have sex with him. I don't know. One time she told me only prostitutes performed oral sex. I thought sex with my husband would be the best part of marriage. I mean, partly for my own gratification (obviously) but also, I just like taking care of a boy, taking the time to give a well-deserved blow job seems like an extension of that, like cooking dinner and listening to his probelms and rubbing his back when he's tired. I know, I know, I'm not a very good feminist. Just don't tell my mom.

The Office-Mate

This guy that works in my office is incredibly awkward, and not in a fun-weird way. He's the kind of awkward where his contributions to a conversation are always followed by uncomfortable silences. He's got a little Napoleon Dynamite in him. The first time he drank with us, I found him alone in my roommate's dark room lying on the floor. For final presentations, we dressed up a little, some guys wore ties, some wore sport coats. This guy wore an oversized, boldly pinstriped suit and a shiny doubleknotted tie. He stayed in that suit for 3 more hours after we got back from work.

Last night, after getting drunk with us, he gives me a slightly slurred call-

"Since I'm not gonna see you again, I just wanted to tell you that I think you're like, really hot. Seriously Sarah, no you are, yeah, you're gorgeous. I mean, I'd say you're like a 9. on a 1 to 10 scale. I mean, if I didn't have a girlfriend I'd totally be trying to hook up with you huh huh huh.... yeah and like, don't feel like, bad that you don't have a boyfriend, you're really pretty and you just need to put yourself out there more, and just like, keep in mind that a lot of guys are really shy too, and they don't wanna tell you this stuff, and um, some guys may seem really weird and a little creepy but when you get to know them they're really smart. Yeah. So yeah, I think you're really hot. We should keep in touch. Yeah ok bye."

First of all, I'm not that hot. On a good day, maybe a 7. These days I'm averaging 5. I have a gargantuan beer belly, my skin looks like I've been partying for a month straight (which shouldn't suprise me) and I have about 2 inches of dark roots in my hair. Last night I was looking especiall un-gorgeous, having ran around drunk in the rain in lieu of taking a shower.

But I'll take it. I feel pretty bad-ass right now. It's kind of sweet, right?

I have this inconvenient habit of being overly friendly to guys I think are freaking weirdos. It's so much easier to talk to someone when you think you're cooler than them. Around someone I was actually into I would just be weird and unpleasantly awkward.... kinda like this guy.

Dear Self Control,

What the fuck man? We were doing so well. As recently as 10:00 last night I was singing your praises over the phone, and I truly believed we were cool now. You know, Self Control, I really thought we were gonna be BFFs, I thought you were gonna be there for me when I said to myself and to anyone that would listen, "no way am I going to hook up with that asshole ever again."

And I kept saying it, all through the night, even as it became increasingly clear that it was nonsense. I was counting on you to be there for me, Self Control. I was so sure that you had my back (along with all my friends that promised not to leave as long as he was here) that I neglected to check myself or monitor my behavior in the slightest. I thought you, and my friends, were around watching out for me and suddenly you were all gone! And I think you took Rational Thought with you too.

The fact that I was drunk enought to usurp the title of Sloppy Scientist might have had a deleterious effect on you, poor Self Control, but that is no excuse. I need more from you. Simply repeating "Oh there's no way I'm hooking up with that douchebag ever again" while my clothes come off is not remotely helpful.

I was actually very amused by your ineffectual late arrival in the morning. No longer drunk, almost awake, peering through the haze of my hangover, I thought I saw you, Self Control, and you made some attempt to stop me from doing whatever we were in the middle of doing. I couldn't handle the change in directions (seriously where the fuck were you before I got started?) so I got a little lost.

My ambivalence came out thusly- instead of deciding what to do (stop? kick him out? keep going?), I went back and forth between pulling him on top of me and pushing him off, wrapping my legs around him and pushing his hands away from me, etc. And then I realized that it was not you, Self Control. In you place you had decided to send in your semiretarded cousin, Bat Shit Crazy. I should have know Bat Shit Crazy would make an appearance.

Step up your game, Self Control.
-Sarah

I don't care for Ecstacy

I think E is a little over-rated. I used to think it would be such a perfect drug for me, fascilitating slutty hedonistic behavior so well, but I didn't plan on like, looking for it because it sounded so bad and taboo, not an everyday drug like weed or coke. Also people had told me that if I had sex on Ecstacy I would never have an orgasm again. This scared me when I was like, 16, and they were relatively hard to come by, but later I was like, bitch please, I think I have it under control, thanks.

My ex boyfriend Will offered it when we were hanging out one night. We'd been broken up for a while and were getting back into being friends, which would turn into sex soon enough. This was like our third time around. We're sitting on a bench and his skeezy dealer friend walks by. Will puts is arm around me and says, "Hey John to you have any E?" John looks back and forth at us. He hates me. 'For two? yeah" Wil asks me if I want to. and offers to pay. It's so unsmooth and obvious it's almost endearing. "Yeah but I'm not going to have sex with you." Will gets 10 points for not laughing out loud. "uh yeah....ok."

Our shit was in powder form. Reliable sources have informed me that this means it's good, but that shit tore up my nose so I made him give me a ritalin to chase it with.

As we started making out I fell back into sex-with-Will mode very thouroughly. You know how when you hook up with someone you used to be familliar with, but haven't had in a while, it takes you a little while to remember what to do with them, exactly? It didn't take me very long, maybe because Will is so fucking weird. He used to beg me to smack him in the face when we fooled around, and if I was mad at him I could, but I think I killed the sentiment by saying "omigod I'm so sorry dude are you ok you sure?" One time he was shredding a tire with a knife and when I asked him why he said h was making a cat o nine tails for me to use on him. I think I was wearing a pink polo and pearls at the time, and I laughed my ass off. He really wanted to be tied up and whipped, beaten, fucked in the ass with a strap on, and I truly wanted to be a good girlfriend, I swear, but I just can't.

the best I could do was the standard hair pulling, biting, and scratching when we were fucking, which I doled out in full effect under the influence of E. Later we were doing lines with Paul and Will had not put his shirt back on. He kept walking around, probably oblivious to the vicous clawings all over his back. I tore that kid up, I think I drew blood. He had a scar a week later. I'm almost proud of myself.

But really, the sex, not that good. I gave it 100%, I worked hard, but far from the "best sex i'd ever had", as so many people had said it would be. Not even the best sex I ever had with Will. The high felt more like a combination of whippets and drunkeness, which made me feel a little dissociated, like I was directing myself from on off-screen location. I came but I never got to where I know I could, I didn't feel my head spin, my body didn't fill up and explode, my legs didn't shake, I didn't get a real, thourough release. I could tell that I was done but I felt like maybe I had missed it, like I hadn't been paying attention. Stupid Ecstacy. I guess there are no drugs that go well with sex?

summer time

This is where I will be living this summer. With 100 other students. Just like last year. Across the street there is a grocery store, an ekered, a chinese food place, and a liquor store. We made booze runs like 3 times a week.

It seems inevitable that people would hook up, right? We did, of course, but the only thing worth noting was Rhyan and Nora. Rhyan is unlike anyone I have ever met. He looks like an abercrombie model and he is probably a sociopath. He was truly mean to people (girls) and didn't ease up when it hit a nerve (I swear this guy thrived of off girls' body issues).

On a drunken night he hooked up with Nora. Nora is cute, not gorgeous, she has a preppy body type but not thin (no boobs, flat ass. I'm not criticizing, she looks great in J Crew. She worked there. I'm jealous) But she did that thing that girls do, where she figured now they were going out and that she could expect him to hang out with her most nights, that she could sleep in his bed whenever she wanted, that they would keep hooking up.

I don't think he liked her, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he was hooking up with a girl he didn't like, so rather than back off he just let it come out as nasty comments and mean gestures. He would make fun of the way her ass didn't totally fill out her bathing suit bottom as she was coming out of the pool, in front off their whole group of friends. He would cut her down in big groups, play little tricks on her, just genenrally treat her like crap. She assured me he was different when they were alone.

One night they were playing around and he held her arm and punched her right in the center of her upper arm, over and over. It was the worst bruuise I've ever seen and I've plent of drunkenly acquired bruises. It was black, about 3 inches across, and it lasted more than a week till it turned that sick yellow color. She thought it was great. She wore short sleeves even when we were all wearing sweaters against the air conditioning, she doodled on it at work with a sharpie, drew arrows pointing to it, and showed it to anyone she could. She was proud of it, she thought it meant she was in with his crew.

I thought it was kind of sick, both that he would hit a girl, that hard, and that she would take it so cheerfully. The dynamic was representative of every interaction- Rhyan beat up on her and she took it and thought it meant they were close, that she understood him. It's heartbreaking to watch, I just hope I never end up letting that happen to me.

Maybe this summer will be less theatrical.

Lines

Apprantly wanting something is not the same thing as liking it. This great article in Elle, with a fascinating study on dopamine in rats (Elle - Vogue for science majors!) described how it's so hard to consciously differentiate between the two but they are not nearly as correlated as you'd think.

Coke is exemplary. Not that I don't love the actual high from coke, the way you can feel it in your bloodstream in the front of your face, the way your mouth feels with the powderey residue on your gums, etc, dude you know what I mean. But god, I love the buildup.

Before spring break my friend Paul came to school. He'd dropped out a while ago, he's the friend you have that is your Drug Friend, and he might be the sexiest guy I've ever seen at that school. after talking to him about getting coke, I went to the apartment where he'd be. He was playing guitar for hours in another room, but the time I spent making half-assed small-talk made me so much more excited when he walked in the room.

Paul always wears silky pajama pants and a loose fitting shirt of a simillar fabric in mismatched prints. From the neck up he looks like the Gucci guy, if the Gucci guy was robotripping.

He lets me know he's ready to get in to it. "Do you want to go to your place?" "Um....." my hesitation is not based in that kind of anxiousness about being alone with him. Yeah sure, the Gucci guy is gonna try to get with me. I'm simply embarassed about the state of my room. Nevermind that Paul has been living out of his car.

We end up busting into our respecitve half-gram bags in the apartment of our mutal friends. I make long, impossibly skinny lines; many of them. Between turns we pass around a bowl and a bottle of Jack Daniels and I smile because I love college. Each time, I shake out a small pile of coke and I make 3 razor thin lines along the back of a psych textbook. "Sarah, are you gonna take those lines soon?" Yes, soon, but come on, look how inviting they are! I like to draw out the time between lines. I love thinking about how much I want it before I can have it. I like watching Paul do his lines, too. I like watching Paul light his cigarettes when we go outside for one and I very much enjoy when he, or any beautiful boy, leans in to light my cigarette.

Around 8 am I figure out that I should leave. Stoned as hell, I walk out with Paul and pass him a cigarette. He says, "Thanks, love," in dead-on Jack Sparrow and I hug him goodbye. For a awkwardly long time. And I try to walk away but he pulls me in tighter and runs his hands down my body. He tries to kiss me and I turn my head. (did I mention how sexy he is? wtf?) Maybe it was the weed but I think in some cases it's more fun just to want something.

Never Have I Ever

Some people like Make a Rule or Waterfall, I like Never Have I Ever cause I am always out first. This school is weird. The first never have I ever- "never have I ever used a vibrator" I figure this is like, the one that everyone should drink for, so I put a finger down and reach for my beer. Everyone else is perfectly still, staring at me. "heh... um.. I mean...." "Nope, we saw you, you're not fooling anyone!" I look around at these stunned faces. "Seriously? No one else? Just me? Alright"

The next guy says, "Never have I ever enjoyed taking it up the ass!" All the girls go, "eww gross why would you even say that? Ewwww ASS! Gross!" I'm shifty-eyed but I stay perfectly still and hope that no one looks at me. The guy explains this is a running joke among the cast. You guys call yourselves theater kids?

"Never have I ever made out with a girl"
"Never have I ever had sex in a moving car"
"Does oral count?"
"Yes"
"Never have I ever had sex high"
"Never have I ever done coke"
"Never have I ever had sex in an academic building"

What is this, high school? I'm starting to not feel as bad about my rut, at least I have good stories.

The Real World, Gaithersburg- Science Camp, Season 2?

My application to NIST summer research 2007 is in. This week I wrote up my little personal statement about all the research I want to do, trying to make myself sound like a respectable person.

They did have fantastic fascilities, I had a great advisor and I worked in a beautiful brand new building and I had all these fun instruments to play with. And I did fucking good work.

We lived in a hotel with a pool and 75 other college kids and free wine and beer Monday-Thursday 5-7. Seriously, come back from work, free beer and drunk hot tub antics, Friday could be pong all night, Saturday by the pool and DC clubs at night, more laying out all Sunday... Couldn't' ask for anything else.

At the same time, I've never been so tense and anxious about social situations in my life, we were so overly self-involved and together to the point of being incestuous . I've never had that kind of omnipresent drama, with emails at work as our confessionals. We'd write back and forth all day trying to come up with more clever insightful ways of describing what had happened the night before. High school wasn't this bad.

I don't know I'll get in again, with my GPA as it is, but I don't know if I can handle that shit again. The last month, I pretty much stopped caring and I thought, well I'm leaving soon, I can do whatever I want, I can black out at a nightclub and I can smoke a bowl in the parking lot and I can fool around with the token lesbian from Smith and I can make out with my roommate's crush in front of her and I can get in fights that end violently and I can wake up in other people's rooms and I can go to work drunk and I can go to work hungover ... all the while drunkenly giggling, "oooh we work for the government, y'all...."

We used to joke that there was no way they could pay us that much and pay for our rooms and fund our research for the little use we were. We must be a social experiement, or a reality tv show in the making, we're the less sexy Laguna Beach. We party harder though.

Too Old for This Shit

I haven't been to a fun party in months. Considering becoming a hermit, in title as well as in practice.

Stacey asked me to go to a party with her and Shadyville. I've never been there not buying drugs. I knew I was going to end up going but I really didn't want to. I didn't know anyone, and I wasn't feeling up for that sort of thing, especially with Stacey. It's exhausting to listen to a sanctimonious speech about how she doesn't drink or party or enjoy any aspect of her life, all the while watching boys lose their shit over her. why, why, why... I guess I'm just really waspy or bourgeoise or something but I feel like talking about your depression constantly is kind of a party foul.

I decide to have a good attitude and get all cute and we go, we bring some booze, and turns out everyone there is between 16 and 19 years old. That's not a huge age difference but it felt ridiculous. I'm not socially skilled but these kids were stunted.

It's elitist to say there's a difference between private school kids and public school kids but.... these kids were just really stupid. The ones who had graduate high school hadn't gotten in to UD. Who the hell doesn't get in UD when they live in DE? Shady burnouts. I forgot that Stacey prefers martyrdom to actually enjoying herself. That's why she didn't have fun at New Year's.

I spent all night talking to the gay guy. This is a bad habit to get into. He could speak in complete sentances and he was pretty.

Beligerent Jones kept getting into fights so they locked him out and all the girls and my gay buddy hid behind the boys while he ran into the door over and over. Stacey must want to die, because she offered to drive him home. If she'd done that I would have walked home. His pupils were coked out to the size of quarters and he had chugged a handle of Popov. Later someone told me that his girlfriend had just died of a heroin overdose. Where does Stacey find these people?

The token Hispanic guy with the oversized baseball hat walked around going, "percs... percs... percs" like he was on a street corner. Adorable. But I perked up (heehee) a little and sorta asked about that... "Ummm how much do you want for percs...Percocet...percs...stuff" I'm such a square. Stacey's like, "Don't be stupid!" ummm don't bring me to this fucked up place and expect me to get through it on a few beers. Anyway I wasn't pulling out my wallet, I was just getting an estimate. Trust me, for $30 I'd rather have some white lace boyshorts. I'd rather have a new eyeliner. I'd rather have Starbucks for 2 weeks. I'd rather have a train ticket to Alexandria.

And it was totally worth asking him because he launched his pitch about how he's a real dealer and he's been selling dime bags since he was 12. Props for that, dude.

Later he claims he can undo Stacey's bra in a second. And he did. I'm so fucking bored I could die. He does mine, both of ours at once... Stacey says if he can do hers with his teeth in 5 seconds, she'll show him her boobs. (And if this Facebook group reaches 10,000 she'll have a threesome.) He did it in 3 seconds and they went out on the porch. This guy named Ivan who had devestatingly sexy aviators started negotiating..."Can I try you?"

"You can try. I'm not gonna show you my tits though."

"Awwww why not? She did it! I bet yours are really nice." are you kidding me??

"Umm no they aren't. They're awful. You don't wanna see em. Hers are better, y'all go take turns with her or something, she'd be into that"

"yeah but yours are bigger. I'll do something for you..." hmmm where's the guy with the Percocet? Jk jk jk.

"What are you like a prude or something?"

haha dude where were you an hour ago when Stacey called me out over and over in Never Have I Ever? I got stories I won't even tell Stacey. I'm just a little more discerning than her, I've actually changed since high school More discriminating taste. I mean, if someone wouldn't eat food from vending machines, would you call them anorexic? No, they just wanna eat food that's worthwhile. (No one ever understands my food analogy but I think it's great)

"Nah I've done enough uh, promiscuous things, and if I'm gonna be ridiculous and slutty I'm gonna actually have fun. Just taking my shirt off for random boys I don't know doesn't sound like that much fun."

They misunderstood this, and took it as a moral stance or something.

"Aww ok man, I can respect that, that's your choice..." Don't get it twisted, I'm not inhibited, I'm not religious, I just don't like you. And then he told me stop giving him "come hither" looks. Sorry sweetheart I guess I just can't help it? It must be because you're so smooth.

One kid would not shut up about it...

"Come on... my birthday was last week and I didn't get to see any titties."

"Tragic. How old are you now?"

"Fifteen!"

"Fucking shit! Fifteen?!? I'm pretty sure that's rape; go home! Fucking fifteen.... When I was fifteen I had never drank, smoked, or been beyond 1st base, okay? I might not have seen an R rated movie when I was 15... "

When we finally left, Stacey said, "Why didn't you let Ivan see your boobs?"

"Cause that's so awkward, I'd feel gross. And where's the fun in that? I did sorta have a crush on him though."

"I know you did. I bet he woulda played with them or something...."

Oooh really? Lucky me. How did I miss out on that shit? I'm sure I'll regret that for the rest of my life.

I'm so glad I'm too old for this shit. My new BCBG sweater was wasted on this crowd, and now it smells like cigs and adolescence. I sprayed some Prada on it and now I feel a little better.

Scrimmaging

Last night I took down a phone number- it's in my phone as Jmghm7. It's supposed to be Jon S. I wonder if the phone number is even close. Not that it matters; dude I'm not gonna call you.

Is having no game a WM thing? That Guy from a few weeks ago started out strong. Last night we're once again on the stoop, and he brushes my long bangs out of my eyes... "I want to see you" Well played, dude; well played. I'm surprised by his competence. But wait, why's your hand down my jeans? And...are you trying to unhook my bra? I know I am not the picture of class, but seriously! When I stop him he says, "Let's go back to your room" Oh, and yet you started so well! I've been here like, an hour. Wait for me to get bored and drunk. "No, I wanna go back inside, it's only like, 11!"

I got into a very interesting conversation in the corner with someone else and when I looked up, That Guy was gone. Oh well.

That Other Guy gets reeeaaally friendly. He's the "likes to cuddle on the couch" guy. Great, but then.... ohh this kills everything, ok I'm sitting back in the couch leaning forward and of course there's that uber sexy saddle bag flab shit just above the waistband of my jeans, and of all the things he could do, he was feeling that up. Ew. It's time to go. "Where are you going?... You should stay here tonight, it's cool... You sure? Ok I'll walk out with you"

I take down a phone number with way more difficulty that you'd expect. "Yeah I'll call you tomorrow"

I need new friends.
I need to transfer.

Eta: Turns out that if I had stayed over, and I had headed upstairs to crash with That Other Guy, I would have passed That Guy passed out on their couch. That would have been awesome, when we all woke up. If I'd known that, I'd have stayed because sometimes situations are so screwed up I just can't resist.

ma vie en rose

I've effectively quit smoking, but I still need it for social networking. It just feels alluring even though I've seen pictures and oh god it's awful. I like to have the excuse to go out on the stoop with a select group out of the party upstairs, have better conversations, get some undivided attention... Or maybe I just love working that ratio. I know smoking isn't sexy but when there are like, 6 guys out on the stoop, and me....come on you can't blame me. I fucking love boys. And I like when they lean in and light my cigarette so our faces are so close we'd be kissing if it weren't for the barrier of a flame midway between our lips. Prolonging eye contact durring the lighting, wrapping my lips around the end and taking the first drag, smiling a bit... "thanks" I can't be faulted for this behavior but it feels so ridiculously brazen. ( So french.)

Two guys I know would not stop sneakily kissing me when I wasn't expecting it, grabbing my ass and talking about Eiffel Towering me. Sketchy as hell. It might have been the most fun I've had in months. I feigned shock at the suggestion, but shit, that would be fun. When they left around 1, they seemed to think I was coming with them.... They were serious?? Damn, I didn't know people actually did that. I thought I was the only one that ridiculous. That's on my list, y'all. No way were we drunk enough for an Eiffel Tower situation, but maybe that would have been a good thing. I think I'd like to remember that clearly.

Instead, I went home alone and thought about it.