Confession Corner: Drugs

I went to Columbia, that hotbed of sin, last night. There were free drinks, which was nice, and then my friend was like, "I am going to use cocaine. Would you like some?" and I said no because I'd get addicted immediately - I know this. Then she offered me Adderall and I was like, well, that can't hurt, it's just a little blue pill. So I had two and kind of fell asleep. I think I have reverse brain chemical interaction syndrome. Or maybe it was just that the alcohol overpowered the Adderall. Then I got my energy back like four hours later and I wanted another one, but it didn't happen. Anyway, the moral of the story is: I can never take Adderall again or I will get addicted, and those pills are $5 each, which adds up to money I don't want to spend on something I can't wear on my feet. But if I had unlimited money, like a fortune, I'd definitely get into drugs. And plastic surgery.

All in all, last night was really fun. I got to have some girl-talk. I didn't realize how much I missed it. The nice thing about girl-talk is that it's so cozy. You just hang out with your girlfriends, watch them snort cocaine, and talk about body issues. It's awesome.

New: Tampax Condoms

Oh my god, you guyz, I got sooooooo pissed off in Duane Reade today. I was in the feminine hygiene section, comparing prices on the different douches, when I stumbled upon a (frankly, somewhat limited) selection of condoms. In the feminine hygiene section. Now, maybe I'm just not operating my vagina correctly, but since when are condoms used for feminine hygiene? They don't cure yeast infections or mop up menstrual blood or clean out your piercings. They're baby blockers, made to fit over a penis. A guy's penis, not a (presumably unhygienic) female penis. Not only does Duane Reade's super-retarded condom placement suggest that birth control is exclusively a female concern (further evidence for my belief that all men want in life is a baby), but it discourages guys from buying condoms. What kind of guy is going to walk into a drugstore and go, "Wow, buying from the feminine hygiene section totally reaffirms my masculinity"? The only guy who would brave that section is a non-retarded guy, i.e. a woman. Anyway, I complained to the manager, who said that the section divisions were planned out by HQ and I'd have to talk to them. Whether or not I have that kind of energy remains to be seen.

Philosophy 101

Q: Would you rather date a guy with one ball or three?

A: Hard to say. The guy with three might be more confident and also he would be a hilarious story to tell your friends, so those are some reasons to go for the triorchid. On the other hand, he might be more masculine, which is never a good thing. I guess if it's the same guy, same personality, plus or minus two balls, I'd go with the three baller.

It's surprisingly easy to weed them out sometimes

I went on a date last night with Cute Guy. I haven't mentioned him before, but there's no need. Cute Guys are pretty much all the same - they think all they have to do is show up. This guy was hands-down adorable, like Michael J. Fox in the 80s, and he said absolutely nothing of interest until about half an hour in, when he leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I'm thinking about you on your knees sucking my cock." I told him I had my period. That's why you never date Cute Guy, you always date Quirkily Cute Guy, the one with buckteeth or freckles or something. I don't know if it's the same when you're dating women. There's more of a range of acceptable looks for women. Men pretty much all have to be tall, with hair a certain length, either skinny or buff but never pudgy (speaking of fat, my sources tell me Seth Rogen has lost some weight. Good job, buddy!). Anyway, the conclusion of this story is: boys, looks will only take you so far, so either get interesting or become a very good listener.

Proof that I may not have enough to do

Burn victim seeks nonjudgmental - 22

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Reply to: pers-998351588@craigslist.org ^[?]
Date: 2009-01-18, 10:30PM EST


The title says it all. I am friendly, fit, and intelligent, yet because of the third-degree burns covering my face, I have trouble getting dates. If you can look past the scars, I'd love to hear from you! Please be tall, h/w proportionate, and successful.


So far two responses:
1. "May I see?"
2. "why would you look for successful? which I imagine means rich? what if I suffered financial burns...?"

The loss of innocence

I've been thinking about innocence, and I don't think it has much to do with sex. I think you lose your innocence the second someone rips your heart out and uses it to fertilize their lawn. You can have anal sex with five gazillion guys and still be innocent, because you don't suspect anyone of being able to really hurt you, and you can sleep with one guy (or, theoretically, remain a virgin) and when he breaks your heart, you've lost your innocence. I guess that's the appeal of dating younger people, their distinct ability to trust strangers. Unfortunately, all the younger guys I meet are my brother's retarded friends, and while some of them are cute, all of them are idiotic.

In lighter news, the dog is sitting on my butt as I type this. She is so perfect. Sometimes I worry that I'll never be able to love my own children the way I love her.

List! Liszt? No, List!

Top things people do that annoy me that I do now:
1. Talk about their bodies. This may not count because I think I always did it, but it annoys the SHIT out of me and I have to stop doing it. It's like, the more I talk about body image x, the worse I'll feel about it, right? And if I talk about my gorgeous fat ass, then my flat-butted companions will feel :( inside. So either way, when you (I) talk about your (my) body, positive or negative, you're (I'm) a dick. The madness ends here. I officially don't give a shit about my or anyone else's body, unless it's super-fat or super-sexy. Call me on it. I'll call you on it.
2. Care about celebrity gossip. I didn't do this before. I do now. And I shouldn't. I haven't even seen an Angelina Jolie movie since "Girl, Interrupted" - why do I care about her kids or feuds or whatever? And why do I dislike Paris Hilton so much when I've never even met her? It's a strange thing, my fascination with celebrities, and even though it's a waste of time, I'm not going to stop obsessing. It's too much fun. But I will never use nicknames to refer to a person I haven't met (or will I?).
3. Call Williamsburg Billyburg. I hate this. I do it every single day. Whatever.
4. Go to Billyburg. It's crawling with awkward hipsters and it's impossible to get to from my neighborhood and all there is to do is spend money on pointless crap, but now, I find it fun. Impossible to tell if it's because my tastes have matured or because I'm getting dumber.
5. Abbreviate in text messages and IM conversations. cu l8r qt! Blarg. But it's so much easier than typing out, see you later, cutie, especially on a phone.
6. IM. I stopped IMing like five years ago. It was pointless. I've started again. Most of my conversations go like this:
Me: how r u?
Them: ok, u?
Me: no response
The urge to reach out and touch someone through a computer... it's overwhelming, yet its power wanes quickly.
7. Use a DivaCup. I used to think they were just for the butchest of dykes. Now I realize that those dykes are smarter than I am.
8. Wear formless dresses. I've spent hundreds of moneys on them when just a few years ago, I thought they were ugly as hell. I was probably right before.

I don't know if anybody ever thought of this before, but I've realized something: as people get older, their tastes change. Surely this insight will win me a Nobel Prize. First person to write me a power ballad gets to take a trip to Stockholm with me.

Monday's body image issues are Tuesday's barricading oneself in a cave

The sore throat went away and I am still alive. I am invincible.

So I went on a date a couple days ago (or maybe it was yesterday - time means nothing to me) and the guy said that although I was beautiful, if I lost ten pounds, I'd be perfect. I'm torn between feeling offended and completely agreeing with him. Or maybe I should start lifting weights, get super-ripped, and beat the shit out of him. Or maybe I should just start dating black guys. I've heard they don't frown upon a giant ass. Anyway, with the amateur life coach's advice in mind, I "worked out" today. It hurt and I don't want to do it again. Also, being around him made me a little uneasy. He reminded me of my ex in a very vague way - they both had knee surgery.

My mom fell on the ice and hurt her knee and for some reason, she's been complaining. I don't get people sometimes.

Letting My Inner Bitch Blossom

I have a sore throat. You think it sounds like nothing, but I figure I have about 48 hours to live. Protect yourselves. Wear face masks on the subway.

The more tactful I get (and at the ripe old age of 22, I find myself more tactful than ever), the louder my inner monologue gets. It's like, I'll be listening to someone and instead of rolling my eyes, I smile and nod and I find myself thinking, "YOU ARE AN IDIOT. YOU ARE AN IDIOT." Then I zone out. Yesterday I couldn't take it anymore. I was walking behind some lady on a cell phone and she was telling her friend that she showed up to a party and (!) another lady was wearing the same purple sweater in a different cut. I walked by her and said, "Oh no! Same sweater!" Then, because I am a coward, I started walking faster so I couldn't hear her yell at me.

I've been dating again. It's all the same: men who think they're entitled to my body. The problem is that I want them to touch me. I'm horny as all get-out. But you're not supposed to have sex with them because then you're a slut, you have no leverage, you'll get AIDS, etc. I think traditional gender roles are stymieing my natural whorishness.

Hey! It's Asshole Day!

My friend and I went to a bar on Smith Street on Friday cause we were too lazy to go into Manhattan or Williamsburg and we made a whole bunch of friends. First, we were approached by this guy who looked kind of like if Sinbad were thin and he was like, "If you two come back to my place, we can have a really good time," and my friend was like, "I have a boyfriend," and he was like, "Hey, I have a girlfriend." We were of course appalled. Later, I saw him chatting with two other women and I went up to him and I was like, "It is so great that you finally found women who don't care that you have a girlfriend."

Back to the one-paragraph book reviews: Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, by John Perkins
Okay, so what an economic hit man is is someone who convinces Third World countries to take out ridiculous loans, then when they can't repay their loans, forces them to basically let U.S. companies take over all of their industries. Perkins was one of those guys, and since he was pretty high up , he screwed over a lot of impoverished people, but it wasn't his fault! His parents were controlling! Some woman forced him to marry her! He just wanted a nice life for himself - is that so much to ask? These aren't confessions, they're fairly well-known secrets. He doesn't admit to any wrongdoing at all, and argues that he was different than the other economic hit men because he a) appreciates different cultures and b) knew that what he was doing was wrong. Apparently some economic hit men really thought they were benefitting the countries they were loaning money to, but he knew he was screwing them, yet somehow, in his mind, this makes him better and not worse. The book is interesting, but Perkins is a douchebag.

Excerpt from "The Penis Monologues"

Today this slut bitch I was gonna hook up with laughed at me. She said I was short and thin, and I was like, bitch, I'm a grower, not a shower, now get down on your knees, but she just ran out of the room. Probably a dyke, right? LOL!!!!! Anyway, after that, I had to show the world I'm a real man, so I went to go beat up some fags, but I guess they've been spending a lot of time at the fag gym cause they're so faggy, so they kicked me! NOT COOL!!!!!!! Anyway, I wasn't gonna get laid, so I went home, opened a cold beer, put an ice pack on my nuts, and watched some Skinemax.