...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.
Friday, February 13, 2004
My absence over the last many moons is only party because I get bored with talking to myself - I lost my precious fake ID, which means that I haven't been going out and having adventures as much as I would like. However! I am turning 21 in less than a week, and you'd better believe that when that happens my life will be utterly fascinating. Exciting x 10. I'm gonna rock this city.

Highlights from the last seven months or so:

I got fired and my boss forgot to tell me, the bastard. That was in September, and I have yet to find a new job. Not even Starbucks calls me back, which is a major blow to my dignity because I thought that a Seattle-trained barista would be hot property. I'm thinking about donating my eggs to an infertile couple and spending the money on laser treatment. If I make a ton of cash by doing something difficult and deeply generous, it seems only fair that I should use it for something frivolous.

I am now a nude model! Gigs have so far included the Queens waterfront, the bathroom in a gallery building in the meatpacking district, and the Polish Photography Association of New York's banquet dinner. Cons - it's cold getting naked in the winter. Pros - I get lots of cute pictures of myself.

I was kissed on New Year's Eve for the first time ever! Amid champagne and fireworks! By a hot Japanese guy! Major milestone, in my opinion.

I've become involved in a liaison dangereuse, and unlike certain contestants on Survivor, I know how to spell it. I'm going to have to come up with some sort of impenetrable code with which to talk about it, so I can spill my guts without being indiscreet.

I rode the Howard Dean rollercoaster from the grassroots to the top, and I just looked down and realized that even though we've supposedly come down to earth, I'm still high enough to break my legs when I fall.

Oh yeah, and I'm on Atkins. Again. I lost 6 pounds! I might just be boring my audience (myself) to tears by obsessively talking about it. Example: "My suitemate had a baking party - there are plates of chocolate chip cookies and rice krispie treats and brownies all over the apartment, and ohmygodI'mgettingdizzyjustthinkingabouthem."

Stay tuned - this year's just gettin' started!

(music: Martin Sexton and the Gay Pimp)


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