Oh god it feels better already just to say it out loud. Honestly I do not know when I figured out my strange dilemma. I do know that since I was a little girl I hated showering and bathing in general. I used to try and cut a deal with my mother that I would shower once a week (no matter what I had been doing throughout the week, which could include swimming in chlorinated pools and running around like a normal active child). I detested it so much and could not figure out why. Maybe I was scarred from when I used to bathe with my older brothers in my critically formative years. Why do parents feel like that is completely normal to throw all their children in the bath despite gender differences and significant differences in age. I call that laziness (shit, I will probably do it too), but they think we won't remember that shit. I can still bring that image to mind if I really wanted to. Very uncomfortable and awkward thought.
Anyways, my intense loathing of showering followed me right up to 8th grade. And let me tell you, those pubescent years in cuthroat middle school are not the years that I should be going into school with greasy hair and eau de body odor. I had it bad enough with braces, big poofy hair I had not yet learned how to control, and no boobs. (God I miss the days when I cried because a stupid middle school boy said I looked anorexic. That look is SO in right now.) Well it also happened in 8th grade that one of my brothers went away to college. I was pretty sheltered in my small Catholic school that I had attended since kindergarten, so it goes without saying thatI was pumped to see the crazy world of college. I stayed in the dorms with my brother's girlfriend one night. The night before I had stayed in my brother's dorm, but he refused to go out because he was obviously just as determined as my heinous Catholic school teachers to keep me sheltered.
My brother's girlfriend, however, decided to take me out on the town. Unfortunately, that involved us walking around campus looking for a party where I might not get butt raped by a stupid frat guy. No such luck, but I still felt pretty cool even after some drunk guy yelled out, "That girl looks like she's 10!!". I was 13 asshole, big difference. Back to the point. While staying in these fine dormitories my bro's girlfriend got up the next morning to take a shower, and I did not want to see like stupid/dirty little kid so of course I said I should take one too. Well my mother had packed my some lovely little shower sandals. And, wallah!, I got into that nasty community bathroom and took a shower and was not freaking out.
All of a sudden I realized the problem I had been struggling with all of my short life. I hated, was completely creeped out, and despised touching the bottom of the shower. I mean I had inexplicably stopped taking baths years prior to this incident, but now everything seemed so clear. From that day on I have been wearing shower sandals in the shower no matter where I was, even in my own bathroom in my house. I took them with me whenever I traveled, and when it was finally time for me to go to college I had the shower sandal routine down pat.
Unfortunately, while I was abroad I forgot to pack my handy dandy shower sandals. I was in a foreign country and did not know where yet to acquire such items and, hell, I had to shower. So I began to shower sans sandals in my foreign bathroom (it was cleaned everyday which made it easier). After months of not using sandals, I returned the United States intent on remembering to bring my shower sandals with me back to DC. Well, in my flurry of packing, I forgot my damn sandals. So here I am, living in my own very first apartment showering semi-regularly without the sandals. I still catch myself standing on the edges of my feet sometimes, but I seem to be getting over my weird disdain.
Today, however, was really a weird day. I have been a little down in the dumps: no money, school is boring, boy problems. So I thought I would treat myself to a little treat courtesy of my massaging showerhead. Unfortunately, it really did not do the trick today. I thought to myself, maybe I need to relax and sit down so I can get off. At this point I luminously stared down at the pink ceramic surface that is my bathtub. Mind you, I do not think I have taken a bath since 1991. Now, out of nowhere, I thought it would be nice to have a relaxing bath. I filled up the tub and squirted some of my body wash in it to create some bubbles and was preparing to get relaxed. I brought in my ipod with speakers and put on some Amy Winehouse and was ready to decompose. I sat in the tub, ignored the slimy sensation of the ceramic underneath my body and tried to convince myself it felt good. I mean, this is what all women in movies and on tv do to relax, right? Well just at that moment the batteries for the ipod speaker started to die, Amy Winehouse disappeared, and all that was left was me sitting in a nasty bathtub full of hot water. I could not do it. I had to get out. My first bath of the new millenium lasted about 3.5 minutes.
Ultimately, I do not feel relaxed. Instead, I feel like I need a real shower now to get this nasty water off of me. All a girl really needs is some weed. Unfortunately, I ain't got no money for that kushy kushy right now. Thank god I have generous friends.
Maybe I should tell my mom to fedex those shower sandals to me...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Quarter Life Crisis?
As I mentioned before, I just moved back to DC full time after spending some time abroad. I know everyone says this, but being away from my own country has definitely changed me. I know girls without boyfriends always whine and say they wish they had a boyfriend. I have definitely said this a handful of times in my life, but I always knew that if I really had a boyfriend or even a chance at a boyfriend I would run very far away from it. Typically I choose assholes/unavailale men that I enjoy playing games with. I have really come to hate that natural chemical or whatever in women that forces us to get emotionally attached to men after having sex with them (for me it takes months of having sex with them to develop those inevitable feelings), but I truly never mean to get emotionally attached. Yeah, psychoanalyze me all you want. By and by, I get hurt in the end or cut it off before I can get attached.
But back to the matter at hand. I came back to the United States seriously wanting a boyfriend for the first time in my life. I have come to the conclusion (I should really invest some money in a therapist), that I am experiencing a quarter life crisis. I am about to graduate and my maternal instinct is kicking in, oh shit I need a mate to reproduce. I have always considered myself some sort of feminist. I mean not the vegan, man-hating, vagina-licking kind of feminist but more of a realist feminist. Hell I know there are differences between men and women, but I also think all women can use their feminine wiles to advance themselves and get what they want. We all know that being a pretty girl can be a real advantage in alot of ways. I've always been ultra-independent and had a small group of close girlfriends. I cannot handle stupid girls, even though deep down I know we are all a little crazy.
So now at the tender age of 21, I find myself in crisis with no direction, no significant other, and no career goal. So if I am no longer passionate about being successful professionally, what is left for me? Find a man to support me, get married, and start the baby factory. I'm sure every feminist who is looking at this blog just surfed on out of here. But is there anything wrong with a woman who really does not want to work? Is this not one of the perks of being a girl? So once I realize this, it comes down to one inevitable problem: how the hell is a newly reformed hoe ever going to find a hubby. I am not sure I buy into that true love, soul mate bullshit, but I would like to hope I could find someone I like enough to want to spend a good chunk of my life with.
But then that little love bug crawled under my skin and laid little crush eggs before I even knew it. I really have not been on the scene in my college very much. I spent most of the past two years either a) very stoned sitting in a room with some friends or b) out clubbing taking lots of drugs and drinking with people very much my senior. So when I was in a foreign country with a small group of my fellow collegiates, I felt very different and alone. However, lo and behold, I became good friends with a select few. One of these few was a boy a year younger than me, definitely not my type, but liked smoking weed as much as I do and was pretty entertaining. From almost the very begining, Jr (as i will call him) was a little flirty and would jokingly or drunkenly say he wanted to date me or confess hislove for me. I always laughed it off because I saw nothing more than friendship.
Well to make a long story short, by the end of our time in our foreign city I finally admitted to myself that I might have some real feelings for this dude. After spending the rest of our summers in respective hometowns, I could not stop thinking about him, told my friends about how crazy it was that I had actually fallen for a kid that goes to my school, and could not wait to see him again. The night of our reunion could not have gone better, or so I thought. We got wasted (him a little more than me) and were acting different like we could be more then friends. And then, bullseye, he wants to suck face. Then, the girl who normally has no qualms about having sex with a guy the first night she meets them will not make out with Jr, her good friend and longtime crush. Why?!? Because stupid me thought I might be trying to embark upon her first serious, mature relationship. I wanted to kiss the kid when he might have a better chance of remembering our magical moment.
Well, this seems to be my mistake of the month because despite hanging out many times afterward there was no make out sesh. After getting frustrated and starting to turn into psycho girl, I got drunk and decided to text him. I am a horrible drunk texter. I have considered leaving my cell phone at home many-a-time to avoid it, but fear of an emergency always makes me reconsider. So I proceeded to have a very important conversation via text message, at a club, circa two in the morning. Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful love story, right? So the convo basically went like this:
me: you don't have to be scared i know i am a crazy girl {I had blown up the night before when he ignored me after telling me to come over and sent him another drunken text telling him never to talk to me again, which he took very literally apparently}
Jr: as long as you know that {asshole}
me: well i am just gonna tell you this now cuz i am wasted and would not have the balls otherwise. i like you as more than a friend and you were being a bitch last night
Jr: i didnt know i'm sorry i didnt mean to be rude
end convo.
So there was my grand gesture (as pussy as it was via text message). Did my good ol' buddy with whom I used to sleep every other night ever give me a call the next day to have a good conversation about it. No. Of course not. He is an immature little boy, just as I feared would be a problem. And I am not saying I am some relationship goddess (I think I have made it clear that I suck at this), but just as friends this issue cannot be avoided forever. And what happened to the drunk boy who wanted to make out with me? I did not imagine that shit, I was not a waste-face like him. My quarter life crisis had pushed me to the door of a world of monogamy, but clearly I do not belong there. I was quickly rejected, only to go slinking back to the land of hoes. I still think it's his loss...at least thats what my girls like to tell me. Well, it's about that time for me to start shutting down my emotions. I am still pretty good at that.
----------------
Now playing: Lil Wayne - Something You Forgot (Carter 3)
via FoxyTunes
But back to the matter at hand. I came back to the United States seriously wanting a boyfriend for the first time in my life. I have come to the conclusion (I should really invest some money in a therapist), that I am experiencing a quarter life crisis. I am about to graduate and my maternal instinct is kicking in, oh shit I need a mate to reproduce. I have always considered myself some sort of feminist. I mean not the vegan, man-hating, vagina-licking kind of feminist but more of a realist feminist. Hell I know there are differences between men and women, but I also think all women can use their feminine wiles to advance themselves and get what they want. We all know that being a pretty girl can be a real advantage in alot of ways. I've always been ultra-independent and had a small group of close girlfriends. I cannot handle stupid girls, even though deep down I know we are all a little crazy.
So now at the tender age of 21, I find myself in crisis with no direction, no significant other, and no career goal. So if I am no longer passionate about being successful professionally, what is left for me? Find a man to support me, get married, and start the baby factory. I'm sure every feminist who is looking at this blog just surfed on out of here. But is there anything wrong with a woman who really does not want to work? Is this not one of the perks of being a girl? So once I realize this, it comes down to one inevitable problem: how the hell is a newly reformed hoe ever going to find a hubby. I am not sure I buy into that true love, soul mate bullshit, but I would like to hope I could find someone I like enough to want to spend a good chunk of my life with.
But then that little love bug crawled under my skin and laid little crush eggs before I even knew it. I really have not been on the scene in my college very much. I spent most of the past two years either a) very stoned sitting in a room with some friends or b) out clubbing taking lots of drugs and drinking with people very much my senior. So when I was in a foreign country with a small group of my fellow collegiates, I felt very different and alone. However, lo and behold, I became good friends with a select few. One of these few was a boy a year younger than me, definitely not my type, but liked smoking weed as much as I do and was pretty entertaining. From almost the very begining, Jr (as i will call him) was a little flirty and would jokingly or drunkenly say he wanted to date me or confess hislove for me. I always laughed it off because I saw nothing more than friendship.
Well to make a long story short, by the end of our time in our foreign city I finally admitted to myself that I might have some real feelings for this dude. After spending the rest of our summers in respective hometowns, I could not stop thinking about him, told my friends about how crazy it was that I had actually fallen for a kid that goes to my school, and could not wait to see him again. The night of our reunion could not have gone better, or so I thought. We got wasted (him a little more than me) and were acting different like we could be more then friends. And then, bullseye, he wants to suck face. Then, the girl who normally has no qualms about having sex with a guy the first night she meets them will not make out with Jr, her good friend and longtime crush. Why?!? Because stupid me thought I might be trying to embark upon her first serious, mature relationship. I wanted to kiss the kid when he might have a better chance of remembering our magical moment.
Well, this seems to be my mistake of the month because despite hanging out many times afterward there was no make out sesh. After getting frustrated and starting to turn into psycho girl, I got drunk and decided to text him. I am a horrible drunk texter. I have considered leaving my cell phone at home many-a-time to avoid it, but fear of an emergency always makes me reconsider. So I proceeded to have a very important conversation via text message, at a club, circa two in the morning. Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful love story, right? So the convo basically went like this:
me: you don't have to be scared i know i am a crazy girl {I had blown up the night before when he ignored me after telling me to come over and sent him another drunken text telling him never to talk to me again, which he took very literally apparently}
Jr: as long as you know that {asshole}
me: well i am just gonna tell you this now cuz i am wasted and would not have the balls otherwise. i like you as more than a friend and you were being a bitch last night
Jr: i didnt know i'm sorry i didnt mean to be rude
end convo.
So there was my grand gesture (as pussy as it was via text message). Did my good ol' buddy with whom I used to sleep every other night ever give me a call the next day to have a good conversation about it. No. Of course not. He is an immature little boy, just as I feared would be a problem. And I am not saying I am some relationship goddess (I think I have made it clear that I suck at this), but just as friends this issue cannot be avoided forever. And what happened to the drunk boy who wanted to make out with me? I did not imagine that shit, I was not a waste-face like him. My quarter life crisis had pushed me to the door of a world of monogamy, but clearly I do not belong there. I was quickly rejected, only to go slinking back to the land of hoes. I still think it's his loss...at least thats what my girls like to tell me. Well, it's about that time for me to start shutting down my emotions. I am still pretty good at that.
----------------
Now playing: Lil Wayne - Something You Forgot (Carter 3)
via FoxyTunes
It's That Time
It seems so difficult to start this blog right now. I mean I have been meaning to do it for weeks (maybe months?) now. A friend of mine turned me on to the amazing SlutMachine while I was out of the country for half a year, and from there I became enraptured with the world of slut blogs. It was invigorating to discuss issues we all want to talk about it, but would be considered too risque on television but, shit, this is what I talk about with my friends. It was like stumbling upon a world of girls just like me who do naughty shit and party, but are real people too.
Moving on to who I am and whatnot. I am in my last year of college in the District of Columbia. My relationship history thus far involves avoiding relationships (whether consciously or subconsciously) at all costs. Much more on this later. I have certainly done my fair share of partying, starting at the tender age of fourteen, which consistently escalated into a blur of drugs, sex, and dissatisfaction. Now, I feel like i am at a pivotal moment in my life. I am about to graduate, have no passion for any sort of work, and have never had a boyfriend. (Does my boyfriend in 5th grade count because that was my longest relationship....I'm serious.)
Ok so in the end, I want to use this blog to (like a true narcissist) talk about shit in my life, pop culture, and just plain ol' crap us hoes like to talk about. Alright alright alright, I promise my next blogs will be interesting/witty/fun/entertaining/totallyawesome.
I am totally pumped to join the world of blogging.
Moving on to who I am and whatnot. I am in my last year of college in the District of Columbia. My relationship history thus far involves avoiding relationships (whether consciously or subconsciously) at all costs. Much more on this later. I have certainly done my fair share of partying, starting at the tender age of fourteen, which consistently escalated into a blur of drugs, sex, and dissatisfaction. Now, I feel like i am at a pivotal moment in my life. I am about to graduate, have no passion for any sort of work, and have never had a boyfriend. (Does my boyfriend in 5th grade count because that was my longest relationship....I'm serious.)
Ok so in the end, I want to use this blog to (like a true narcissist) talk about shit in my life, pop culture, and just plain ol' crap us hoes like to talk about. Alright alright alright, I promise my next blogs will be interesting/witty/fun/entertaining/totallyawesome.
I am totally pumped to join the world of blogging.
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