...I Was A Teenage Fag-Hag

The story of a NYU student struggling to survive in a world where the shoes are pricey, the IDs are fake, and straight men don't seem to exist.
Saturday, April 27, 2002
Fuck the Navy! And that's all I have to say about that, except for this perfect quote from the esteemed Winston Churchill: "Naval tradition is nothing but rum, sodomy and the lash." Or "rum, the bum and bacci," depending on how British you are. My long-awaited rendezvous with Jason was supposed to take place last night, but the bastard stood me up! I met him in December when I went to Cabo San Lucas for winter break, but circumstances prevented us from hooking up as much as he would have liked... so we exchanged email addresses and promised to hang out the next time he could escape from the Naval Academy and come party in the big city. He was talking about it constantly on IM last week, saying how he couldn't wait to "experience the tongue piercing," and so on, although I warned him that just making the trip didn't guarantee him any play. Apparently he decided that he would have a better chance of getting laid if he forgot about the NYU priss and took his uniformed self elsewhere. I wasn't exactly waiting with bated breath, but I was expecting to at least have the option of sex this weekend - I even waxed my tender parts "just in case." That, combined with the fact that I blew off Dave (who was a sure thing) in his favor, really irks me. I was walking around with a dangerous expression on my face by the time 10 PM rolled around and he still hadn't called me. Skye's ex-boyfriend from the Academy was also in town last night - I tried to convince him to hunt the guy down and kick his ass for me when he got back to school, but sadly I don't think it's going to happen.

To keep me from moping, Jane hauled me to meet Ricky and Ali at a place called Beauty Bar on 14th Street. I had my doubts, but I was already dressed to go out, and the rumors of a $10 manicure and drink special were too tempting to resist. It turned out to be very trendy (in a good way), and packed with young single guys. We spent the first half of the evening talking to a group of British guys, who tried to pose as manicurists and butchered Jane's nails with red paint in the process. One of them (the cute one) got our number and said something about a party tonight, but I think his flirtations were mostly directed at Ali. Jane and I were about to leave when we started chatting with an older woman and her married friend, who were hilarious and kept us entertained for at least an hour by telling stories about the crazy parties they had when they were our age. The woman, Tessa, was awesome and didn't look a day over 25. She's exactly the kind of person I hope to be when I'm in my thirties: Mature, put-together, but still fun and stylish. They bought us each a "Slippery Nipple," a delicious shot which consists of Guiness, Bailey's and Kahlua. Mmmm. The other highlight of the evening was seeing James Gandolfini of Sopranos fame, who squeezed past at the crowded bar with several other crewmembers and said something to me. I can't remember what though... Damnit!

I think I'm going to Exit tonight, and possibly rolling with Skye and Jane. I know doing it two weekends in a row is a bad idea, especially right before finals week, but we badly need a roommate bonding experience before the end of the year! And the combination of ecstasy, Junior Vasquez, and New York City is just too good, as I know from my "college visit" last year. I'm toying with the idea of inviting Van (otherwise known as Hot Gay Boy) to come with us. After we hung out at Pop Rocks on Thursday, he IMed me with him room number and said I should stop by. Rowr. It can't be bad to want him if he looks so good...

Tuesday, April 23, 2002
My continued fascination with the tests on Spark led me to take the so-called "100% accurate" gender test. The website claimed that by asking me a series of random questions, it could easily determine whether I'm male or female. So I took it... and this is what I get:

It all adds up...
You are definitely a man!

And just in case I wasn't sufficiently insulted by being labeled a man (which, dear reader, I most definitely am NOT), the next page graciously informed me that "people like you, who walk the scary line between man and woman, are *very* helpful in understanding exactly what it means to be human." Thanks guys. The only scary walk I do is down the sidewalk in my 4-inch stilettos.

Monday, April 22, 2002
Hmm... Could be worse.

Sunday, April 21, 2002
Yay for me and for my fun weekend!

I got up early on Friday and went to meet Skye and Jane at the NYU housing office, where we quizzed someone relentlessly to find out what we should do about our apartment situation for next year. Skye and I were assigned to Water Street together, which is a beautiful dorm but all the way down at the seaport - it takes people up to 45 minutes to get to class in the morning. It also has no low-cost rooms (I don't really need one, but Blue does), and doesn't have free telephone, cable or ethernet services like most of the buildings closer to campus do. Jane is stuck in Cliff Street just a block away from us. With the help of the nice lady at the housing office, we decided to all put in transfer requests to 13th Street, a brand-new dorm only a few blocks away from everything.

I went to get my highlights touched up early in the evening, and while I was sitting under the hair dryer the beautiful, sunny day dissolved into huge storm. It was short-lived, though - by the time I walked out of the salon, even the rain had stopped. There was broken glass all over the sidewalk on my way home, which I later learned was because the wind ripped off a bunch of open windows in Rubin. The storm didn't affect my plans much, because they consisted of staying in the dorm and rolling with Megan, Alisha and Ricky. We popped our pills at about 8:30 PM and then went to the store for necessary supplies like lollipops, Vicks, bottled water, and a disposable camera. I can't wait for our pictures to be developed! I got bored waiting for it to hit so I headed out for a cigarette, and the moment I left the room I felt the first tingles in my arms, and knew I was in for a good night. I went outside and called Cortney to tell her I was rolling and that I miss her, and by the time I got back upstairs I was "full tilt boogie," as Raver Slut likes to say. Megan met me in the hall and we grinned at each other like the Etards we were, then started on our night of crazy fun, which included washing each other's feet with minty foot scrub, enjoying the wonders of her soft bath mat between our toes, and giggling in a huddle on the stoop of the Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life. The fun basically came to a halt when we had to go to the drugstore with Denise, a trip which made us both nervous and clenched-up. I came back up as soon as we returned to Rubin but Megan never really did, and since it's no fun to roll alone I was forced to chill out and sit in boredom outside the building. Alisha and Ricky either didn't roll at all or had a very strange one - all they wanted to do was sit there and chainsmoke, which is exactly what they did until sunrise. I finally gave up on anyone entertaining me and retreated to me room, where I lay on my bed with the fan pointed at me and listened to Paul Oakenfold. At one point I started hearing voices in the music. I thought it was people talking out in the hall, because I recognized their voices, but I freaked myself out when I went out to investigate and found that no one was there. I finally fell asleep when I switched to Paul van Dyk (no eerie voices in his music).


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