I Went to the High Heel Drag Race and All I Got Was the Herp!...

Run Bitches, Run!

... and a flesh-colored dildo. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Let's start from the beginning: Back in August, within the first few minutes of meeting my friend and classmate Dana (back at the first cohort at J. Paul's) she asked if I would go to the High Heel Race with her. I'd never been (I missed it both times during DC 1.0), so I said sure, let's get a group together, it'll be fun. And suddenly the time has flown by and here we are, walking down P St in the rain on our way to 17th St. and the Drag Race.

Like everyone in my cohort, I'm feeling the heavy weight of schoolwork bearing down on my already beaten soul. I need to get somewhere in the 88% range on next Wednesday's Patho exam, and going out to watch a bunch of queens running in the rain ain't the way to do it. I'll study hard for this exam - in fact I've already been studying hard - but Christ on a Bike, I need a break every once in awhile.

There was a small group of us and we got to the Race around 7:30, which was enough time to get us 2nd row view in with a boisterous crowd, which helped make the time go by.

Participants were already parading up and down the street, including a group of TWAT crew members. The guy next to us kept yelling to the guy dressed as the captain, "Hey TWAT Pilot! Hey TWAT Pilot!" I'm still trying to figure out a way to incorporate Twat Pilot into my everyday vocabulary.

Later my friend Brady, dressed in some kind of "Cash for Clunkers" group costume (with a bunch of other guys from my swim team), came over to talk to me.

Brady: "You should be out here with us," he said.
Me: Umm, no thanks.
Brady: "Seriously. (To the group of people around me): Folks, don't you think he should be doing this? He'd be fabulous!"
Crowd around me: [... crickets ...]

Thanks, crowd. Seriously, I just can't win.

It was time for Brady to go, so he planted a big kiss on my lips. I turned to Dana:
Me: "Do I have lipstick on my face?"
Dana: "Yes. It kinda looks like you've got The Herp."

Radness. So I left it on for the rest of the event.

The race itself was over in about a minute. Is it worth it to stand out in the rain for 90 minutes just to see a one-minute race? Yep. I'll do it again next year.

At the same time, one of the queens running past began to lose parts of her costume, and a flesh-colored rubber dildo landed at our feet. Christ, if I had a dollar for every time a dildo was tossed in my direction...

Seeing a great photo opp, I picked it up and offered it to Dana, Caroline and Katie, thinking how funny it would be to get a shot of the three of them with the dildo. Of course, they were having none of that. But Dana and Caroline - those quick-witted minxes - snapped a few photos of me holding it. As did a few other people around me that I don't know. Sweet. Knowing there are photos of me out there holding a floppy, pinkish-tan dildo in public will keep me awake at night.

After the Race was over, we all went our separate ways. I knew the Red Line would be packed, so I decided to hoof it back to the Heights. As I walked back in the rain, I thought about how much fun the evening had been. I've been so stressed these last few weeks, and tonight I just felt so happy to be in DC. Everyone seemed to be out, being friendly and agreeable and I thought this is when I like this city best. I also thought about the people I've been making friends with, and how much I enjoy spending time with them, and I'm feeling like everything is going to be OK.

Sure, these feelings will likely be re-replaced tomorrow with stress, doom and gloom, but tonight all is right with the world.

Dealbreaker

So I've been jonesing to see Where the Wild Things Are since it opened last week. The book was my childhood favorite, and many months ago (like, back in August) I decided to be Max for Halloween. I'm a big fan. A lot of my friends know this and, in fact, several are surprised that I didn't see it opening night.

Anyway, I wanted to see it last weekend, but didn't (stupid Health Assessment mid-term), then planned to see it Wednesday night after my presentation in Promo, but remembered I had a meeting (stupid Academic Council).

So fast-forward to today: I'm feeling hungover and not social, but at the same time I'm feeling guilty about not seeing L in a week, so I think I should probably provide a little care and feeding to this non-relationship. (I spent the afternoon studying with Emily, who asked: "So, what are we calling you two these days?" Nothing. We are calling it nothing.)

Going to see WTWTA would be a perfect solution - provide me with a little pick-me-up, opportunity to spend some time with L in a very safe, non-tempting environment. A win-win (for me and myself, anyway). Phone conversation went like this:

Me (excited): "Want to go see Where the Wild Things Are??"
L: "Hmm, Not really. I heard bad things about it."
Me: "????"
L: "What else is playing?"
Me: "Wait. What? Like what? How ridiculous."
L: "Some parents were complaining that it is too boring, or something like that."
Me: "..."

Too boring? If ever there was a dealbreaker, this is it. What am I doing here with this? Care and feeding of this fake relationship has got to stop.

So we're going to Paranormal Activity instead. Sure, I want to see that too, but this is a poor substitute/consolation prize , but whatever.

Yeah, So I'm Drunk and Want Some Peanut Butter...

I know it is 4:05 in the A.M., Mr. CVS security guard.
Just let me pay for my Skippy and we can be on our way, biiiitch!

What Up With That?

Sure, I think this season of SNL is up there with the worst ever.

But am I the only one who thought that the sketch "What Up With That?" is one of the funniest things? Ever? Between Jason Sudeikis' random break dancing and the weird Peekaboo Street robot dance moves, I lose my shit every time I watch it. It starts out a little slow, but about 2 minutes in, it starts getting all fucked up.

And then of course there's White Pete, the Sexecutioner. ET Likes Resse's Pieces indeed.

Sounds Like A Subdural Hematoma To Me

I have been getting the Shit kicked out of me at school this and last week. Things are rough because it is mid-terms so I'm Living the Dream.

I mentioned in my last post that I've realized I've become a B student (cue the violins). I'm having a harder time accepting this than I originally thought. Yeah, I know I need to just get over it. I think I'm just not used to spending so much time studying and in return getting less-than-stellar results. Yesterday's Assessment mid-term yielded me a C - a Fucking C! - and I should have scored in the high B range. I mean, I know the material.*

And last week I had a take-home test and scored an 88%, even though I actually spent the time to look up every answer. How the hell do I get an 88 when I looked up every answer? How much of a retard am I? FML.

OK, I am done being a whiny bitch.

My friend Mimi sent this to me last week and it cracks me up so I'm posting it here. Of course, it likely isn't funny to most people. I hope that in a year or so I'll still be laughing. After all, it's not my job to diagnose.



* Obviously not.

Mark the Date...

[Note: the above image is the 4th image to come up in Google image search for "B student." I'm not endorsing rifle hunting or anything like that. Not to say that there aren't times when I'd like to become proficient in using one. You know, just in case the opportunity presents itself.]

Well, it has finally happened. I was walking in the rain to class this morning and noticed I was both laughing and talking. To myself. Just me.

Mark the date, I am officially Crazy. Personally, I might have predicted Crazy to hit a bit earlier in the semester - I would have pegged sometime around Oct. 1 - so that fact that I'm 7.5 weeks into the school year before it hit is a proud achievement.

Also, I'm gassy. Just puttin' it out there - literally (see what I just did there).

This week and next I face a barrage of mid-terms. Three this week, two next and a presentation Wednesday. Also, I think I need to come to grips with the fact that I might be a B Student. Pretty much nothing but B/B+s so far this semester (at least in the classes that count*), and I just don't see things turning around to such a degree that I'll ace most of them.

Years ago, was I was Undergrad 1.0, this would have been fine. More than acceptable. This time around though, it kinda pisses me off.

* And then there's Patho, which is another story entirely.

I Need to Get the Control Back Into My Life (ya hear that, alcohol?)

No school today, so it was to be a productive day for catching up. Plan was: wake up at 8, head to the gym for a swim and possibly a run, then a good 9 hours of studying at the library.

Instead: wake up at 10 feeling like shit. Sweats and shakes and dizziness. A few gulps of water, then into the shower. Clothes on, then the decision that there's no way I can possibly hop on a bike and head to campus, so instead back in bed for another 30 minutes. I guess this is what happens when you go to bed at 4:30.

The weekend started out promising enough. Stayed in Friday night to study and do a little cleaning. Saturday - early swim at Wilson HS, then more studying in the afternoon. Ended the night with drinks with L., Jason and Justin. So far so good...

Went back to L's place, started making out. Once again it was nice. So I had to put a stop to it. I started to explain to him all the reasons it isn't a good idea for me to be back at his place, making out with him in his living room (yet again); I don't want to lead him on, lead him to think this "relationship" could possibly go anywhere; blah blah blah...

L (interrupting): "You know, you think too much. You need to just shut up and get into the bedroom."
Me; "Ummm, OK."

I guess at that moment I just grew tired of putting up a fight. His persistence (and, Christ, he sure has been persistent) wore me down. Without getting into details, let's just say that on a very technical level Operation Celibacy in still in tact. But certain, um, liberties, were taken.

Anyway, on Sunday I met up with Emily and Brian at Nelly's to watch the Raven's game. Buckets upon buckets of beers were consumed and the afternoon turned into evening on the upstairs patio and the weather was simply gorgeous and we were laughing and drinking and enjoying the company and the crowd and the crisp autumn air.

Fueled by a good buzz, Emily and I then headed to Alero for dinner, then walked back up to Columbia Heights were she got in her car and headed home. I should have called it an evening too, but my friend Doug was in town from NYC and drinking at Nelly's with his softball team so I made a return trip.

From here, the evening gets a little more blurry. Me and my Hoya Saxa, Bitches t-shirt were getting some attention and some flirtations at Nelly's then at Cobalt. Culminating with a cute guy coming up to me out of nowhere asking if he could Make Out with Me. Sure, why the hell not?

Very Little Good has come from this weekend. I need to get some control back in my life. I'm not heading out on weekends anymore. Until Halloween, anyway. I can do this, right?

Best Text Conversation of the Week

From my brother, this morning:

Brother: "Dad asked if you live in a bad neighborhood. Something about FedEx not delivering."
Me: "Tell that whiny bitch to grow up."

Is This a Musical Table?

[This photo from Thursday's IASIP pretty much represents the conversation with the Local 16 bouncer (see below). There's me (played by Charlie - duh) explaining to him why he should let me try the chair-dancing; And there's Kelley (played by Sweet Dee) telling the bouncer that I'll likely break my neck but it would be "hil-AR-ious (totes);" And then there's John (played by Dennis) as the constant voice of reason, subtly begging the bouncer to put me in a head lock.]

It was a big week. Lots going on; lots of stress.

It is also my new friend Kelley's 30th birthday, so a bunch of us went out to celebrate. Take built-up stress from Patho + a 30th birthday, and you get some drunkery. No diggity.

Plus, it was my boo House of Jules birthday, and I promised her a Ginner in her honor (ginner = dinner with gin. Her brilliant idea.) And while no gin was had (just Peroni, Soco and lime shots, and a little dose of some St. Germain to kick it), Jules would have been proud of my game, 'cuz I was On like Chaka Kahn.

Hearts were broken. First, Mimi got shot-down by the bartender at St. Ex. Second, a guy in the bathroom at Local 16 offered - completely unsolicited, honest - to show me his "huge cock" (his words), which I politely declined. Next, Kelley refused my romantic advances late in the evening, despite my attempts to wow her and the group with some sweet chair-dancing moves.

Scene - Local 16, closing time:
Bouncer: "Sir, what are you doing with that chair?"
Me: "I'm about to do that move where I jump up on the chair, tip it over, and still land on my feet like at the end of that Janet Jackson vidja."
Bouncer: "Sir, you and your friends are going to have to leave."

What else? For about 90 seconds I had the whole dinner table convinced I was a first alternate on the 1992 Olympic Fencing Team in Barcelona. It was my best acting yet. Plus, I really feel like I need to Keep the Dream Alive.

My Head's to the Wall...

... and I'm lonely.

Georgetown is in the flight path for both arriving and departing flights at National. So pretty much every minute of the day you can look up from your textbook or class and into the sky and see a plane coming in or out of DC.

Maybe it's because I really had hoped to go back to Chicago this weekend, but these last two weeks every time I see a plane ascending to the West, I think, "God, wouldn't it be nice to be on that?"

McButters Book of Lists

[or not]

Top 5 Reasons I May Fail Tomorrow's Pathophysiology Exam:

1. There's something called bacteria. And then there's something called a virus. Apparently, there's a difference between the two.
2. I may have completely forgotten to read an entire chapter. Whoops.
3. Still don't know what the word "pathophysiology" even means.
4. 50 multiple choice questions in 55 minutes. Impossible. Butters don't churn like dat.
5. The sequence of events leading to cell death is commonly decreased ATP production, failure of active-transport mechanisms (the sodium-potassium pump) cellular swelling, detachment of ribosomes from the endoplasmic reticulum, cessation of protein synthesis, mitochondrial swelling as a result of calcium accumulation, vacuolation, leakage of digestive enzymes from lysosomes, autodigestion of intracellular structures, and lysis of the plasma membrane. Or some Shit like that.
   

It's October Now...

... you can ditch the flip-flops, fratty.

It's 62 degrees and rainy. Did you not look out the window before you left your apartment?

And while we're at it, let's lose the shorts too. Have a little self-respect.

Not Impressive Sundays

Last Sunday morning at swim practice, coach tells me that for the next set she wants to see some fast swimming; that she "wants to be impressed." I tell her: "I don't impress on Sunday."

In honor of that, I present you with Not Impressive Sundays, a recap of all the fucked up highlights from the previous week, either done by me or done to me.

• On Monday I got called out -- in front of the entire lecture hall -- by my Patho professor for talking. How old am I?
  
• Saturday was my course-correcting lunch with L. The goal was to explain to him that even though last Saturday night was fun, I'm not really interested in pursuing anything, on any level, over the next few months. Did that conversation happen? No, of course not. In fact the exact opposite happened - I think we might now be dating. Not sure how that's going to fit into Operation Celibacy, but I guess I'll worry about that when I'm not freaking out about Patho.
• Apparently I'm now sleeping with my textbooks. Went to bed Wednesday night with Health Assessment, started to read it, and when I woke Thursday morning it was still lying next to me, still open to page 402. Sadly, I didn't catch anything from it.
• On Friday, Chicago lost the bid to host the 2016 Olympics. This is Obama's fault, obviously. I was bummed, but then I realized that outside of Chicago, nobody really gives a shit.
• Saturday night I was supposed to stay in to study (for big Patho exam happening this Wednesday) but instead went out to a party and slammed 3 beers in a matter of 20 minutes, pretty much decimating any hope of studying post-party. Why do I do this to myself? On the upside, I got groped in the ass by some guy in the back yard. No, it was totally unsolicited and unwanted, but hey I guess I'll take it any way I can get it.
  

I Was Supposed to Study for Patho-Fizz Tonight...

... but somehow instead wound up at a party and really buzzed from 4 beers in 90 minutes.

That is all.

Butters...

Things Contributing to My Well-Being:

1. Frequent hand washing
2. The new David Gray
3. The new Neil Finn/7 Worlds Will Collide #2
4. Sugar cookie with sprinkles, from Dean & Deluca
5. $5 foot longs from Subway (seriously, I've eaten more Subway in the past 3 weeks than I have in 3 years. How else can you have both lunch & dinner for only $5??)

Things Not Contributing to My Well-Being:

1. Ragweed, Chenopods, Nettle (or some shit like that)
2. Pathopysiology (or more specifically, my lack of motivation to study Pathophysiology)
3. $5 foot longs from Subway

With Maps, a Mountain Range, A Piggy Bank

I'm sitting here trying to study for a big Patho exam happening next Wednesday. This class is tough, and there are hours upon hours of materials to study. I can count on one hand the number of times I've stayed in on a Friday to study. This is certainly the first since classes started 5 weeks ago. I think I'm supposed to feel accomplished but instead just feel behind.

I got home from a great clinical tonight feeling energized. But there's so much to know for my clinical - so many terms I'm not familiar with, I could spend the weekend just reviewing the skills and concepts that we learned this week. Makes me fuzzy and a bit defeated.

I baked a frozen pizza for dinner and unwound for a bit. The plan was to start studying at 7, but then I needed to go out for a walk and get some fresh air. Like most nights lately, the air is cool, fresh and welcoming. (The night sky tonight looks a lot like the one in the photo above.)

I called my parents - my mom just got back tonight from a 2-week trip to Ireland. She asked me about school - It is tough. Really tough. But I am in love with my cohort and classes are good. Did I mention it is tough? It's kinda amazing the amount of contorting and breaking of your old lifestyle and habits that needs to happen just to keep your head above water with 6 classes, each of which is pretty demanding in its own way. I talked to my Dad. When he was hanging up he actually said I love you, which he hardly ever says. It sorta breaks my heart.

I then walked over to my friend Jason's house, which he just bought and moved into on Wednesday. I walked up to the front porch. The living room light was on but he wasn't home. I sat on the swing and took it all in. A beer would be good right now. I imagined the next few years, and the thought of sitting on this porch often over the next 4 years made me feel good, but it was odd too. What am I going to be like when this experience is over, when my commitment to DC is finished?

I called L to finalize lunch plans for tomorrow, then my friend Emily. As the night went on I started growing lonely, and I wanted to hear a friendly voice. I thought about calling some friends from Chicago and Portland, but I didn't have the energy. My brother too. But I wouldn't know where to start.

In the last two weeks I've had rather tough realizations about some of the relationships in my life, grappling with the idea that when I think of my long-term future, I'm more alone than I wanted to believe; that I've had to re-evaluate some of the relationships I've been taking for granted. And I think of one of my favorite songs, Iron & Wine's "The Trapeze Swinger" and it is particularly heartbreaking on a night like tonight ("...The trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last...") and it hurts to even type these words so I'm moving on...

As I sat on Jason's porch, I saw people walking by - couples, neighbors, friends - all laughing and smiling, having good times together, sharing lives together - and I can feel that hole inside me grow just a little bit bigger.

There's that part of me that wants to open up to new relationships that seem to be budding here in DC, and the other part of me that thinks it best to keep these people at arms length because I just don't need the distraction right now. And it's this conflict that makes me a little blue.

So here I am. Me and my Patho lectures. And it is almost 10, so I need to get to it.

Go Chicago!

So in about 13 hours Olympic history will be made and the world will know which city will host the 2016 Games.

This topic has been debated for years. And in Chicago over these last few weeks it has been hard to pay attention to anything else.

I'm a Chicagoan, born and raised. True, I don't live there now, but I full well might be come 2016.

I hope Chicago wins.

There is a lot of opposition to it. The biggest arguments from Chicagoans include: the chance that city taxpayers might have to pay an enormous price tag; that the money being spent could pay for services more desperately needed; And that Daley is an ass (my buddy Guy from Chicago posted a few convincing arguments against it here). I get these. I get all the arguments against Chicago 2016. And yes, it is easy for me to ignore the headaches (traffic, construction, etc.) and instead rather blindly support and hope for a win while I'm living in another city.

But for me it comes down to this: in 30 or 40 years, when people who are against Chicago 2016 (like these fucktards) are looking back on their lives and taking stock, I just don't see any of them reminiscing with "Remember that time when we successfully blocked Chicago from winning the Olympics? That was cool." What I do imagine, however, is a million Chicagoans reminiscing about how amazing it was back in 2016 when people from all over the world came to the city and were there with them when history was made.

Or maybe I'm just full of shit.

Anyway, good luck today, Chicago. I'll be cheering for you.

UPDATE:

O damn. Maybe next time.

(I think this woman is my old boss from the hospital.)

One Month...

Today essentially marks the start of my second month of school. Yep, one down, only 15 more to go. To mark the occasion I sent the cohort this lovely haiku:

Wow, how the Time flies

Making all kinds of new Friends

Krebs Cycle Sucks Ass

I wanted to send a video of an interpretive dance I've been working on, but I was not successful in finding a panther or cobra for it. Maybe for the 6 month anniversary instead...