http://www.abqjournal.com/news/state/apgaybook05-23-08.htm

Even though this took place in May of 07, I want to say that Clovis high school was obviously way out of line--everyone with half a brain knows that you summon homo and bisexual people by acting like they exist and treating them like they're equal to heterosexuals. Not many people know this, but I have it on high authority that Perez Hilton was actually conjured up at a slumber party several years back when the girls turned out the lights and said his name three times at a mirror.

God, how morally bankrupt can these schools get? Next thing you know, gay and straight people will be forming alliances.

Another new experience in college: I was the subject of a hit-and-run date proposal.

Let's start from the beginning.

By 1:00 this afternoon, I was already quite tired, hot, and unbearably thirsty from spending several hours walking around campus and trying to find where my classes are, and seeing as it's Sunday, there wasn't a store open on campus. The meal hall was open, true, but I didn't want to give up one of my meal plan points just to get a fuckin' drink of water. The vending machines don't accept twenties, which was what I needed to break. However, I remembered that there was a Starbucks at the bookstore, and Starbucks generally sells drinks.

Success!

So I darted off to the bookstore for the second time today, ignoring the joggers on the athletic field I pass by, broke my twenty, chugged a milk while waiting for my Vivanno (I was really thirsty) and decided to head back to my dorm, where I can get back to reading 8 Ball Girls. The road back to Coronado Hall is hot, dusty, and my flip flops were chafing, so i really just wanted to get back to my air-conditioned dorm and book. I noticed that one dude was jogging backwards in front of me, and I thought that was cool because I can't do that without risking serious bodily harm, but I was honestly more focused on my iPod. I round the corner, and I see my dorm in the distance. I also see Backwards Jogger, who's now going forwards. Towards me. I noticed him in my peripheral vision, and when it was apparent that he either wanted to talk to me or barrel into me head-first, I braced myself.

"Hi!" He says, coming up next to me. "Are you new here?"

Aw, fuck. My book about girl gang bangers would have to wait.

"Yeah," I said, taking off my headphones. "I'm from New York."

"Oh, so you're far away from home, too?"

"Yeah."

So he introduced himself as Ben, from Austin, Texas, and decided to talk to me. We talked about how, yes, being from Long Island means that I am from New York, and Little Italy, etc etc, in the two most awkward minutes that I'd had so far today. I think he asked me if I've ever seen a mafioso. And then, he said "so, do you want to hang out some time?"

I think "hang out" is actually code for "go out;" I'm not very up to date on evasive vernacular. But at any rate, I have only had to deal with a scenario involving me getting asked out once, so I did what any emotionally-retarded person does, and stammered as I tried to ascertain whether this was a platonic or non-platonic offer. If it was, then we cool. If not, then sorry, but no dice, dude. However, I'll never know what Ben meant, because as soon as I said "uhm," he went "okay," and jogged the fuck off like some gazelle with a tattoo on his chest before I could get a word in edgewise.

Ben, I still don't know what the fuck you were getting at, but no hard feelings, dude. I hope you manage to woo another girl with your backwards-running skills and chest tattoo. Shine on, you crazy devil from Austin.