Man-Sluts

"He took my hat."

"Well did you get it back?"

"He took my hat and ran off."

"Well did you chase him and get it back?"

"He took my hat and ran off and went upstairs."

"Well did you follow him upstairs and get it back?"

"He took my hat and ran off and went upstairs and went into a bedroom and said, "Come get it..." "

"THAT PRICK! WHERE IS HE?"

"In a bedroom upstairs! Waiting! In the dark! With my hat!"

"We're gonna go get your hat. NOW."

"He's in---"

"That one?"

"No...that one."

"That one in the corner with all the lights turned off?"

"Yeah."

"THAT PRICK! WHERE---"

"Hello."

"Uhhh...hi. Here's your hat."

"Thank you..."

"YEAH THANKS."

"That was a little uncomfortable."

"The part where he came out all by himself after waiting in there for a good 10 minutes only to face you with your friend, which proved the fact that you believe in safety in numbers and that he is a total PRICK?"

"No, the part where his pants were off."

"Ahhh. I didn't notice that. THAT PRICK!"

Parties have proved to be the outlet for all the pricks in the world. The ones who believe that they can get whatever they want from a chick as long as they get her trashed first. Which, sadly, is true for some. True for the chick dressed as a Catholic school girl in the purple eyeshadow with her shirt unbuttoned revealing a floral-printed swimsuit-top grinding on every person and lamp shade in sight who constantly approached me the entire night saying, "Loosen UPPPPP! You're so up-TIGHTTTTT!" For chicks like THAT, go for it, dude. But for chicks like me, the ones who like to party while keeping their pants ON, stay the hell away. It's really quite simple.

"You have nice hair."

"Get the hell away from me."

Okay. So I'm not that blunt. I wish I was, but that wouldn't be fair, would it? Because if I go to a party, horny guys are a big percentage of what parties are about. It's like if I went to a Chinese buffet and got angry that there were crab legs there. They're always gonna be there. And I just need to accept it. So I'm a little nicer.

"You have nice hair."

"I'm not going to hook up with you."

There. That's to the point without being a complete wench. Of course I don't usually say that, either. I usually just go along with it, compliment them back, giggle a bit, then book it. So in reality it's more like:

"You have nice hair."

"Hehehehehe thank you hehehehehehe GOT TO GO!"

Then there's the mingling. The roaming from room to room. The scoping out of the hot guys. (NOT that I would go up to them and tell them they have nice hair)

"May I have that blanket beside you? It's freezing."

"Maybe you should wear more fucking clothes."

"Umm maybe you should lose a couple hundred pounds."

Of course I didn't say that either. Because you just don't insult huge drunk guys who happen to have two fists. So it went more like this:

"Maybe you should wear more fucking clothes."

"Yeah? Oh yeah? Yeah well...well yeah? Well...yeah. Yeah? Ho ho! Well! Yeah..."

And as I repeat the "yeahs" and "wells" I'm also AT THE SAME TIME walking out of the room. It's quite brilliant, really.

"Dude, Natasha. Your sister...is HOT."

"AHHH! WHAT?"

"Like, she is SMOKIN."

"You know, it's best you DON'T tell me these things."

"I can't believe you brought your sister to a party."

"There are other freshmen here! She can handle it!"

"But can she handle ME?"

"THERE WILL BE NO HANDLING OF THE SORT WHATSOEVER!"

"I know she wants me."

"Okay NO. NO NO NO."

"You don't think she's into me?"

"NO. NO I DON'T."

"Why not?"

"NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. Good god I feel like her mother."

"Man she's HOT!"

"We are NOT talking about this. Stay away from me. NO, stay away from HER. Keep talking to me, just don't---"

"Hey guys!"

"KATRINAAAAA! LOOKIN GOOOOOOOD!"

"We're leaving. NOW."

I wish girls were the predators, and guys the prey. Because if girls were the ones who did all the hitting on and looking up and down and ass-grabbing, and guys were the ones who were the sluts and the tramps and the dirty whores, then parties would be SO much better. Why is it us girls who are "taken advantage of?" Why isn't it US taking advantage of the guys? Why has it been permanently established as US being used for our bodies? Why can't WE do the exact same thing? Why can't I look at a guy, then look at his chest, then back up at him, then say, "Nice legs," then say, "Come talk to me where it's more quiet..." then go in for the kiss then have my way with him? Then walk out and tell everyone what I JUST did with whats-his-face then move on to the next man-slut? WHY THE HELL NOT?

"Are you drunk?"

"No..."

"Okay, I'll come back when you're drunk."

See? Why can't we pull "douche-bag moves" and have the guys whining, "Why didn't she calllll? She said she'd callll!" And have them saying, "What a BITCH. She's hooking up with that other man-slut right now! And he wasn't even attractive!" and "She told me I was the easiest person to talk to at this party...did that 5-minute conversation we had before she stuck her tongue down my throat mean NOTHING to her?" Why can' us girls be the pricks at the party? I would KILL to be That Prick.

The Mid-Life Crisis Sideburns

Three words: Middle. Aged. Men. Three MORE words: Mid. Life. Crisis. I'm seventeen years old. I'm really not supposed to witness 40 year old men trying to be young hipsters. It's not my time for that. My time as of now calls for teenage boys getting drunk and calling me at 4 in the morning saying, "Hey...what are you up to?" as if it was a Sunday afternoon. IT'S FOUR IN THE MORNING. I'M DOING WHAT MOST OF THE HUMAN RACE DOES AT FOUR IN THE MORNING. I'M SLEEPING. My time as of now calls for teenage boys showing up at my house at four in the morning throwing rocks at my window trying to get me to come outside. AS IF I WANT TO GO SEE A BOY WHO JUST WOKE ME UP WITH PEBBLES. AS IF SEARCHING FOR TINY ROCKS IN THE GROUND AT NIGHT IN ORDER TO PITCH AT A SMALL SQUARE IN THE SECOND STORY OF AN UNLIGHTED HOUSE IS EASIER THAN CALLING MY CELL PHONE. AS IF I WANT TO SHOW MYSELF TO A BOY WITH NO MAKE-UP, UNBRUSHED HAIR, AND SWEATPANTS ON THAT I OUTGREW BEFORE I HAD EVEN HIT PUBERTY. My time as of now calls for young boys trying to look like older men, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.

"Okay everybody! Now sprint to this side of the gym, touch the wall, sprint back, tag your partner's hand, and then your partner will do the same. Everybody clear?"

"WOO HOO! YEAH WE'RE CLEAR AS A CRYSTAL, BABY! CLEAR AS A CRYSTAL!"

"Readddyyy...GO!"

"WOO HOO! WHO'S DONE FIRST? I SAID...WHO'S DONE FIRST?!"

"WE ARE, MAN! YEAH, WE'RE DONE FIRST!"

"SO THAT MEANS...WHO KICKS ASS? I SAID...WHO! KICKS! ASS!"

"WE KICK ASS, MAN! WE'RE THE ASS KICKERS HERE! WOO HOO!"

You'd think being the only two men in a class of 35 would dampen their egos, not enhance them.

"Okay everybody! I'm going to put on some music, and all I want you guys to do is jog around the perimeter of the gym to warm up for our next drill! Okay, GO!"

"DUDE I LOVE THIS SONG! BLINDED BY THE LIGHT..."


"WRAPPED UP LIKE A DOUCHE!"

"HEY MAN THAT'S THE BEST PART OF THE WHOLE SONG!"

"HAHA YEAH MAN, YOU'RE A DOUCHE!"

"NAH DUDE, YOU'RE THE DOUCHE!"

I could have told him that myself.

"YEAH MAN BUT FOR DOUCHES WE SURE KICK ASS!"

He grabs his own ass as he yells this. He plays it off an accompaniment to what he just said, but really he's picking his shorts out of his crack. Because honestly, he's just too fat to be wearing dolphin shorts. But he doesn't know this. I know this, but he doesn't know this. His friend doesn't know, either. Since he's got the dolphin shorts AND the mid-life crisis sideburns. Long and shaggy with a touch of salt and pepper.

"Okay everybody! Now I want you to lay down on your backs, and stick your pelvic bone in the air. We're doing REVERSE crunches, people. Reverse crunches! Now remember, your pelvic bone is off of the ground. It's up, it's up, it's UP!"

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!"

Okay. You're 42 years old. You're in a gym class filled with women. You're in a gym class with 14-year-old girls. While all the other men are out bench-pressing and sprinting around a track, you're on a yoga mat. You're not only making sexual jokes, you're screaming them across the gym to your little friend over there with the socks pulled up to his knees and the front part of what's left of his hair slicked back with gel. You have a gut that hangs down so low I bet it's impossible for you to even get it up. So shut your mouth and do your crunches. Asshole.

"This reminds me of when I played running back back in high school."

Yeah too bad that was three DECADES ago. Now the only running your back is doing is running over the waistband of your pants.

"I still work out, though. You know, to keep my muscles JACKED and inTACT."

Ooooo...fat boy can RHYME! News flash, bud. She's NOT INTERESTED. Even if she was, she isn't now considering the fact that you're hitting on her as she is sitting on a rubber ball bouncing up and down and you looked at her breasts at every other word you said. Even if she was, she isn't now considering the fact that you have shaved calves and man boobs. Even if she was, she's isn't now considering the fact that YOU'RE WEARING A WEDDING RING. Asshole.

I realize that women go through this as well. They get the fake tans and the fake boobs and the shirts that say, "GOOD GURL GONE BAD" on them and they walk like they have a stick up their ass which is probably some anti-aging technique we don't know about, and they wear hot pink sports bras to do the elliptical on and they pierce their navels and yeah, it's pretty bad. But are they telling men about their cheerleading days? Are they looking at other men and licking their two front teeth? Are they making jokes about being wet? Are they sporting the mid-life crisis sideburns? HELL. NO.

So yeah, I'm whining and crying about Beevis and Butthead. I'm complaining and bitching about Thing One and Thing Two. I'm moaning and groaning about Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. I could just not go back. It's simple. I could skip the work-out I enjoy because two buttheads enjoy it a little too much. I could sit at home and eat Ding-Dongs while those two jerks make jokes about their own Ding-Dongs. It's simple. But I'm not gonna do it. I'm having a Rocky moment here. I'm the eye of the tiger. I'm gonna keep on going. I'm not gonna quit. Because even though those two make me want to rip my own head off and shove it into their tennis shoes to bite at their heels as they do suicides, they give me something to laugh about. And of course, write about.

Escape to the Loo

I get asking the teacher to use the restroom. That's respectful. What I don't get is them saying no. That's retarded. How can you refuse to let someone relieve themselves? Empty their bladder? Take a wizz? It's utterly ridiculous. Especially when they say, "hold it," because if we could always just "hold it" we would never go to the bathroom. If we could just "hold it" we wouldn't have asked in the first place. If we could just "hold it" we wouldn't start wearing diapers when we got old. Ever heard of BLADDER INFECTION? It's a real thing. Not a myth. Real. And it's not like peeing takes an hour. Four minutes, tops. For people who don't wash their hands, two. For people who don't wipe, three. For people who don't wash their hands OR wipe...okay that's just disgusting. The point IS, teachers get to pee whenever they want to. They don't have to ask, they don't even have to tell anyone. They just go. Then they deny our request to do the same thing. They pull the whole, "you should have gone in between classes." WELL I DIDN'T HAVE TO GO THEN. And what? You pee once and you never have to go again? Uhhhh NO. There are some people who pee twice in one hour. I happen to be one of them. The result of these power-hungry teachers is that instead of focusing on our classwork, we're devising ways to escape to the loo.

"Ms. Coleman, may I use the restroom?"

"No."

"I'm gonna pee my pants."

"Go sit down."

"I'm gonna pee my pants."

"Act your age."

"I guess you want me to pee on your floor then."

"Quit being immature and sit down."

"BETTER PUT THE JANITOR ON SPEED DIAL!"

The thing about the "pee on your floor" threat is that it has never happened in real life, so there really is nothing to fear about it. It's like if you said, "I'm gonna pee all over everyone's faces and into their open mouths if you don't let me go," because you know that would never happen, one because you would get expelled, and two because if someone whipped it out and started peeing on everyone, they probably wouldn't sit there with their mouths open.

"JOHN!"

"Sorry..."

"Why didn't you just ask me to go the bathroom?"

"I thought you'd say no..."

"Honey, if you had to go THAT bad I would have let you go!"

"Sorry..."

"Go the office and get some pants out of the lost and found."

"Sorry..."

"Who wants to help me clean this up?"

"So sorry..."

Of course there actually was a time someone peed on the floor...but we were in 5th grade, so it doesn't count. What I want to know is why didn't he just ask? What's more humiliating: asking to go the bathroom and being told no, or standing in your own puddle of piss and just having to wait until someone noticed and said something? The kid had issues.

"Ms. Coleman, may I go to the restroom?"

"No."

"Ms. Coleman! Can I go get some tissues from the bathroom?"

"Yes you may."

"What? Why'd you let her go get tissues but you won't let me go to the bathroom?"

"She can't control her nose from running."

"I can't control my urine from flowing!"

"Act your age."

"I think people at all ages still pee."

"You're so immature."

Is it just me, or is it immature to say, "You're SO immature."? It's just something to say when you have nothing to say. It's like the older version of, "I can't hear you!" or "SHUT UP." or "Look over there!" then running away. It's just a horrible comeback. Especially when you're saying someone is lacking maturity because their bladder is functioning properly. I mean, really.

"May I go to the restroom?"

"Is it an emergency?"

Now, what exactly does this mean? An "emergency?" Does it mean, "If you don't go will you faint and have to be taken away in an ambulance?" Does it mean, "I'm only asking this so you feel guilty about leaving my classroom."? Does it mean, "Did you pee a tiny bit in your underwear and you would rather finish the job sitting on the commode?" Does it mean, "If I don't let you go and someone tells a joke and you laugh you'll have urine running down your leg?" I have to admit girls have it easier because we can just say, "It's that time of the month..." and we are allowed to go. Because pee and blood are two TOTALLY different things. Guys can't say, "It's that time of the month..." because that makes absolutely no sense at all since guys don't have a menstrual cycle. Hmmm. What does it mean... it really is a pointless question because if asked, OF COURSE we're going to say it is, because if we say it's not, then we can't go, and if we say it is, we can. I've never heard someone say, "No, it's not an emergency." because that's just dumb. Honesty is just dumb. (when it comes to bathroom dilemmas)

"Yes, question?"

"May I go to the restroom?"

"No. We're in the middle of class."

"But it's an emergency."

"It will have to wait."

"But I'm on my PERIOD."
(I would never have the nerve to say this in front of the entire class.)

"No."
(Guy teachers don't know what it's like to have blood ooze out of their crotches. Sorry for the detail, I'm just trying to get the point across. Plus I'm in Anatomy this year and I have learned it's "all part of human nature" so I'm not grossed out by it.)

"But I'm wearing very expensive underwear."

"You are disrupting class. No."

"LOOK I'M NOT GOING TO TOLERATE BLOOD STAINS ON MY VICTORIA'S SECRET THONG THAT I JUST BOUGHT YESTERDAY SO I'M GOING!"
(Girl has a point.)

There's always the ol' "my contact fell out" trick I've seen a dozen times. There's also the "I left my pencil on the bathroom sink" that somehow qualifies as a good excuse to leave class when there are millions of pencils in the world. Like, millions. And then there's the rebels who just can't take it anymore. Not saying I'm of the rebellious folk, but you gotta go when you gotta go.

"Ms. Coleman, may I please use the restroom?"
(Notice: use of the words "please," "may," and "restroom." I was trying my best to be polite to the bitch.)

"No."

"But it's an emergency."
(Early use of the "emergency" excuse. Too early?)

"No."

"Ms. Coleman."
(She ignores me.)

"Ms. Coleman."
(She ignores me.)

"Ms. Coleman."
(Man what a bitch.)

"I really, really have to go, Ms. Coleman."

"Quit causing a scene."

"I don't really think I'm causing a scene..."

"Oh yes, you are causing QUITE the scene."

"Well I'm the one whispering and you're the one yelling soooo..."

"You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"Well I..."

"You think this is SO amusing."

"I don't really think asking to pee is that amusing..."

"Oh yes you do. Grow up."

"Even if I did get older, I'd still have to pee."

"You just love this attention, don't you?"

"I love peeing."

"Still causing a scene, I see."

"I wouldn't be causing a scene if you would have just said yes."

"No."

"I'm just gonna go..."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm leaving now..."

"It's your office referral."

"Yes well I'm very sorry..."

"It's your detention."

"I'm sure the need to urinate will look daring compared to the crack deals."

"You're so immature."

Peeing is not exactly something we all enjoy, or look forward to, or dream about one day doing, but it is SO incredibly satisfying when you've tried for twenty minutes to be allowed to go, when you've asked and asked and requested and made up excuses and said it was an emergency and threatened to pee on their floor and into people's mouths and you've asked and asked and requested and caused a scene and alerted the class about you new thong and asked and asked and got up and walked out all to sit on the toilet and just...go.

Bubbly Wads and Bugles

It's not that she's a boring person. I've had my share of those. We called her Wallpaper.

"Claudia! Going to soccer practice today?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, I skipped Monday and had to do sprints. Did you get caught skipping?

"Yes."

"Man that sucks. So...did you have a good weekend?"

"Yes."

"Me too! So...what'd you do?"

"Yes."

And it's not that she's a mean person. I've had my share of those, as well. We called her Bitch.

"Natasha! I saw your sister today and you two look exactly alike!"

"Really? I don't really see it, but that's what everyone says!"

"Well, I mean, you're definitely A LOT BIGGER but other than that, yea!"

It's just that she has a problem. And no one can tell her because it's not really something you can fix. It's like this: you're talking to her, right? And, as what happens in most conversations, someone says something funny. It doesn't have to be "laugh till your abs ache" funny, just "giggle till you wiggle" funny, and so she laughs, because of course everyone there will laugh. I mean, how weird would it be if everyone was laughing and there was one person just sitting and staring at the laughing people? I'd rather fake laugh than stare at laughing people. (Or if you can't fake laugh real well, just go for the verbal approach. Try saying, "Oh! That's funny!" instead of chuckling softly. You could also say, "Man! That's a good one, Mark!" or, "Wow Cindy, you got some humor up your sleeves today!" but be sure to not sound sarcastic, because then you just look like a bitch.) So we're all laughing, and she's laughing, and that's when it happens. SPIT. EVERYWHERE. Not one little fleck that flies through the air and lands on the ground, several bubbly wads of gooey saliva splashing onto everyone's faces. (We've gotten one step closer to comfort: keeping our mouths CLOSED 30 seconds after something funny is said. Someone's else's spit in my mouth is only welcome if we're swapping it. I don't want anyone giving it away as a frikin' freebie.) So that's it. That's the problem. Sure, sure, it sounds like no big deal, but that's coming from someone who has never suddenly smelt fish and realized there was a masticated ball of tuna underneath your left nostril. That's coming from someone who hasn't had to wipe cremated Wonder Bread from your eyebrows, only to smear it on there even more. That's coming from someone who hasn't tried to look hot in from of a guy and then had to pick out potato chip pieces from their hair (one. by one.) as he stood by laughing. And pointing. (Put together that's laughing and pointing and MAN that's one combo I'm never gonna order.) It's not something easily ignored. It's a problem that needs to be fixed. Options...?

CONFRONTATION

"Wendy! Good ol' Wendy...listen. You tend to spit food at people when we're all trying to have a good time. It kinda kills the mood, you know? You don't want to be known as The Mood Killer, Wendy. So just try and not laugh at funny things...it's not that hard, just bite your lip or put your hand over your mouth or run away really fast when you feel a laugh comin' on. That's all, Wendy. That's all."

STRAIGHT-UP TRUTH

"Wendy! Good ol' Wendy...you're disgusting. Spit another one of your grotesque bacon bits onto my cheek and I'm going to take your precious bacon bits and shove them up your ass. Now TAKE A HIKE you pathetic excuse of a human being."

STRAIGHT-UP LIES

"Wendy! Good ol' Wendy...I'm concerned about you. My father is a well-known surgeon in the medical field at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital and he had a 12-year-old hermaphrodite come in yesterday with a built-up ball of Bugles stuck in their esophagus and he said it was because they tended to always laugh before they had properly chewed AND SWALLOWED their food. I noticed that some of our friends say funny things sometimes and I just don't want to risk it and since I care about you I don't want you to risk it, either. So you should probably not laugh while you're eating or not eat at all. I'm so glad I got to warn you."

DUCK AND COVER

"And I was like, "Yea! If that's what you call a RUG! Get it, rug?"

Looking around to see if this one is a hit. Slight smiles creeping in on a couple faces...bingo.

"OKAY EVERYONE! CHRIS JUST SAID SOMETHING FUNNY! THE LAUGHING HAS NOW STARTED AND MAY LAST A FEW SECONDS. PLEASE BE AWARE."

Hands up over my face, popping a squat which really just looks like I'm about to take a dump in the hallway, observe the poor suckers who didn't listen to my announcement, and...coast is clear.

WARDROBE CHANGE

"Don't mind me!"

"Wait, who is that?"

"It's me, NATASHA!"

"Oh hey! Why are you..."

"Nothing to worry about! It's just something I found layin' around the house!"

"You're wearing a ski mask..."

"I said it was NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT!"

ANTI-LAUGHTER

"And I looked down and my fly was unzipped!"

"HAHAHA---"

"MY DOG HAS PELVIC CANCER AND IS GOING TO DIE."

"Natasha...I am so sorry..."

"It'll be okay. Thank you for caring."

"So then Mrs. Ewing tells me it's unzipped."

"HAHA---"

"MY BEST FRIEND WHO I'VE KNOWN MY ENTIRE LIFE IS MOVING TO AFGANISTAN."

"Natasha...that is terrible...wanna talk about it..."

"No no..I don't want to put a damper on everything. I appreciate your concern."

"So then I go to zip it up and I realize I forgot to wear boxers today!"

"HA---"

"I'VE BEEN EXTREMELY CONSTIPATED FOR SIX WEEKS."

THE INTERNET

"Wendy! Good ol' Wendy...ever read my blog?"