Sorry I haven’t been able to write lately. I’ve just been so busy with *cough* society interviews, failing midterm grades (I’m talking “Please See Me” failing, and not in the good way), and stapling my beautiful-person profile into all the copies of Rumpus I can find. All this and the fact that after my most recent lackluster column, my editor stopped returning my IMs and video messages for some reason, and also changed his cell phone number, e-mail address, P.O. box, screen name and NetID password.
Needless to say, a bottle and a half of Dubra later and after hours upon hours of questioning my existence in this world, I mustered the strength to compose myself. Within these past grueling weeks known as junior spring semester, I’ve really lost my focus: My maturity has forced me to become less and less bitchy, resulting in less and less cattiness, which ends with me being less and less judgmental. So, in an attempt to avoid this ambivalent fate, I’ve worked hard to be as sensitive as possible to that small bump on the left side of your nose and the BDG tag (*chortle*) peeking out of your sweater. Please bear with me during these trials and tribulations, and I hope you enjoy this logorrhea-ic masterpiece — but if you don’t, you were never invited to my birthday party anyway. Oh, yeah — and I f*cked your girlfriend.
There are many reasons, O drunk girl, why you shouldn’t vociferously publicize your level of inebriation. Reason Number One: Being drunk implies drinking a lot, and a lot of drinking implies a lot of carbs, and a lot of carbs implies your fat rolls hanging over the bursting waist line of those Antik Denim jeans, which, might I add, were out even before I saw you buying them at Bottega’s clearance sale. Reason Number Two: You aren’t really that drunk, and even if you were, the rest of the free world doesn’t actually care — that is, unless someone wants to get arrested. Reason Number Three: Telling us how drunk you are is only a preface to enumerating what you drank and the exact metric quantities consumed — and believe me, if you’ve heard ’em once, you’ve heard ’em all: You’ll begin with a beverage low in alcoholic content, but high in quantity, before moving on to moderate intake of a bar drink that exhibits your prowess in the mixology vernacular, and finally ending with three shots of some obscurely named cocktail. Though you may say, “I had six Natty Ices, four Cranberry Vodkas and three Kamikazes!” all I hear is, “My father left my mom for his secretary when I was five,” “I need to refill my prescription of Zoloft,” and “I hope they’re serving celery in the dining hall tomorrow.”
And guys, don’t think you’re getting off scot-free on this one. Though your volumetric magnitude may be greater and your drinks may be “manlier” (e.g., I had ten Wild Cat Forties, six Gin and Tonics, and five shots of Jager), you can’t drink away your homosexuality.
Dear New Haven’s Craigslist:
Not only do you offer me more urine-stained furniture than I could ever ask for (read: spend night upon night dreaming of), you’ve also provided me with a far more titillating distraction than Brynne’s lingerie show facebook photo albums. Casual encounters? Missed connections? Miscellaneous romance?
Translation: casual sex, even more casual sex, and more sex so casual that it might as well sprout legs, throw on an inch-long miniskirt in below-freezing weather, and call itself Q-Pac. Even under “strictly platonic,” there’s a “SUGARBABE seeking Generous SUGARDADDY.” Now, did I just not know the meaning of “platonic,” or am I just on the prowl for a paternal figure made out of sucrose? Whatever the answer may be, craigslist says to hell with frictional unemployment (thank you, ECON 116) and hello to “BLOWJOB FOR LAUNDRY SERVICE.”
I thought it might help to provide you with a comprehensive list of craigslist lingo, so now you have an excuse to log on and, you know, check the accuracy of my definitions and maybe e-mail around to see what “Dom Dad Needs 8 inch Satisfied” really meant by “Dom” (Dominican? Domestic? Document Object Model?).
NSA: No strings attached. Example: “This is NSA no recip required. If your a hot Girl that would be cool too.”
LTR: Long-Term Relationship. Example: “I’m 34 and single-never married. I work a full time job in New Haven and live in Rocky Hill. I only want serious responses for someone looking for a LTR.” (Is it wrong that I laughed maniacally?)
SAHM: Stay At Home Mom. Example: “am looking for SAHMs that might be interested in hanging out with or without the kids.”
ISO: In Search Of. Example: “Hot Dad ISO Younger for Encounter Tuesday Afternoon.”
WS: Water Sports. Example: “into bondage, humiliation, verbal abuse, spanking, WS and doing whatever i’m told.”
LHO: Lesbian Hotel Orgy. (No. Seriously.) Example: “please reply with LHO in headline and whether you wish to attend the lunchtime or afterwork party. admission $10.00.”
Now that you’ve got most of the important acronyms down (as if you hadn’t already), it’s time you got off … to a good start on selling that dingy old television of yours! Just go to craigslist.com and put up a listing. Until then, I’ll just plan on seeing you at SML for a little SML (say around 9ish?). I’ll be wearing the yellow cheese hat.
Joe Aphinyanaphongs is searching for a NSA hookup with a STD-free slut into kinky BDSM at the annual New Haven LHO during spring break.