I really want to go dancing soon, preferably at a gay club. Oh Johnny McGovern, you Gay Pimp you!

God, this song just makes me want to put on something tight, get my hair all big, wear way to much make up and go out dancing!

This video, however, makes me wish I had a bio dick. I wish I were as cool as drag queens.

That’s it. I want to go to a drag bar. Who’s coming with me?

It also taught me a new word. I had never heard ‘mussy’ before.

I’ve also been humming it while doing dishing, going ‘Work bitch!’ and shaking my ass.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Things are going well in my life, and I am, for the most part, quite happy.

I’m all signed up for school, which starts the end of this month. I’m going to finish that bloody B.A. of mine. The advisor lady I saw to discuss the classes I needed told me that I had a hell of a lot more done than I thought. In fact, I had enough credits done that I could take a second major. So I’m double majoring in English and Anthropology. I fucking rock.

This semester alone I’ll have finished the last L.A.S.A.R. class I needed, be one class closer to having all my writing intensive units done, have two more classes done for my major, AND I’ll be taking two classes that just seem fun. Mmm…Classical Myth and the Hero, and Ancient Tragedy.

The sad part is, I’m looking forward to meeting the boys of those two classes. Nothing makes me hotter than the chance to sit in a room and discuss literature, mythology, fairy tales, folklore, and whatever book we’re reading in class with boys who can hold their own.

You want to get into my pants? Try discussing Norse Mythology. Lets debate the merits of No Exit. Talk nerdy to me baby.

The last two lit classes I took made me twitch. Half the kids in my French Literature class couldn’t even read out loud, let alone discuss how religious hypocrisy in Tartuffe reflected that of the time Moliere lived in.

Oh, and the Dumb Kid in my comparative literature class, who, after reading the Marriage of Heaven and Hell, asked “So, what Blake is saying is that Milton founded Satanism?”

He also suggested that the invention of the Renaissance that affected the battle scenes of Paradise Lost was ‘Paper?’ and made some sort of reference to sheep fucking in relation to Adam being alone in the Garden of Eden until God created Eve.

I have never actually headdesked in real life before, until I met that kid.

Hopefully, if I work hard, and take summer classes, I’ll be finished with the B.A. in a year and a half.

While I’m somewhat daunted by the idea of my student loans, which I’ll have to pay when I graduate, they will enable me to pay my rent while I go to school full time, and hopefully I’ll find a nice part time job for spending money.

I do have a nice fat check coming to me soon, which I’ll use to pay off my credit cards, and, hopefully, will get me to Sex Camp.

I haven’t wanted to go to camp in ages. But all my friends are going! I want to go too! And S’mores! I want S’mores!

Hopefully, by then I’ll be able to eat the S’mores. I went on a diet to get off the bad weight I gained in July from the ’staying with mom’ and the ’smoking pot with Coconuts and eating all the leftovers from his 4th of July BBQ’ as well as a few extra pounds I could do without. I won’t by any means be skinny, but it’d be nice to get back down to say, 190. I’ve learned that any lower than 180 and I look kinda sickly. I figure, 190’s a nice place to be.

Don’t worry everyone, my ass will stay the way it is. My ass is a marvel of nature. No matter how much I lose, its always about two sizes bigger than my top. The Gods want me to have a big curvy ass. Because chief among them, is Sir Mix-A-Lot.

I can already tell the diet is going well. Some of my fupa is gone, and it takes less time and less twisting to shave my legs. The size 16 stretch denim skirt kind of fits again. My mother would considering ’small’ and ‘inappropriately tight’ but I think it highlights my ass nicely.

I finally got back in touch with Sesbastian, as mentioned last post. Of course, I haven’t been able to lure him back to my edifice as of yet. Tonight, I texted him, and later on in the evening, his phone called me by itself. I hate ass calls. I want booty calls, not ass calls!

See Bastian? Even your phone thinks you should get that sweet ass over here and let me put my hand in it again.

Franklin and I will be getting together for dinner this week, and hopefully we can get started looking for an apartment. I really love this one, but I gotta get away from these flatmates.

I’m really looking forward to decorating this time. I swear to god I’ll be picking out paint samples soon. I’m thinking the living room will be blue and purple and silver.

I’m also looking forward to living with a man who isn’t an complete idiot. unlike the ones I live with now. Jesus.

For Example: we have very little counter space. There is a little folding table next to the counter that either the George Foreman Grill or the toaster sits on, when the other is in use.It is not difficult to switch them. Heat, however, should not be on this little folding table. Thing 1 can’t seem to understand that, and thinks I’m being irrational.

Bitch, if you can be irrational about seeing me naked, then I can be irrational about my stuff not getting burned, and, y’know, no fires.
P.S. I have not used that toaster in ages. I know its you guys who are not cleaning it out.

This is from a guy who can’t figure out that anything plastic should be removed from the top of the toaster before it’s used.

And he thinks he’s the smart one. Hey, I may not be an Assistant Vice President, have two B.A. or know the back of a computer from my ass, but I least I get some ass now and then, ok? Maybe you’d be less of a douche if you got some action now and then.

I can’t wait to move. They’ll be so confused when the realize they no longer have a kitchen table, chairs, couches, shower curtains, a drain dish, pots, pans, measuring cups, coffee mugs, wall art, curtains, curtain rods, amusing seasonal door hangings, holiday decorations, garbage bags, and realized they have to take the trash and recycling out themselves.

Though if I get my new desk from IKEA, I’ll leave this one, with a note taped on it saying “Have fun repainting my room, bitches! I’m not on the lease, and don’t have a deposit to get back!’

I’m not bitter or vindictive at all. :-D

I’ve got my eye on an really nice dresser and a desk from IKEA. I’d like to get a real dresser, instead of the plastic things I have now. Though, I’d keep one of them for next to my bed for condoms, lube, sex toys lingerie, and better discretion. Hehe. Discretion! How weird.

The only not so good thing going on right now is that at the end of September, I need to have a colposcopy. I had a abnormal pap (the Physicians Assistant said on the 1-3 scale they use to judge the abnormality, it was a 1) , so they want to go in and take a closer look.

Now, I’m no wuss when it comes to the gyno. I’ve been going since I was 16, because I have PCOD. It took those idiot doctors forever to figure that out, too. I always had massively irregular periods and such. Don’t worry, I won’t go into detail on my irregular poonani bleeding.

Anyway, I’ve always considered myself a gynecological pro. I’d go in, get into the gown, have them do their poking and prodding, and all that good stuff.

I’d get in the stirrups, make small talk while she did her work, and I’d even answer all the questions with what one described as ‘refreshing’ honesty.

But the idea of having them dye and highlight my cervix so they can poke, prod and scrape around at it, all without the benefit of me being unconscious? Not a fun idea.