I like them because it's like a blow job and dessert in one!

Before I launch into the tirade of a shit show that is my life, I must remark upon some personal reflection that just occurred while walking home this eve--before scary man in unmarked white van quickly parallel parked next to me and made me fear he was going to drag me into said un-marked white van and date rape me. Well, actually, we weren't on a date. So, I 'spose it'd just be classified as plain old rape. Not entirely Mariska Hargitay worthy. Man, I wish I was 8 again.

So, topic of the eve-- gyms which have, in lieu of walls, BIG windows that look out onto the street. What do we think of this? Personally, I would never let my bestie see my on a treadmill, let alone strange passers-by. (I can only walk, not run, because my body has never mastered the subtle art of transitioning between the 2. Ask my elementary school P.E. teachers for further confirmation.) All I can think when I see this is, what are these people thinking. "I am so f***ing hot, that lady with the pug totes wants to do me?!?" Who, pray tell is that narcissistic? (I mean, I am, but even I have my standards. By which I mean level of self hatred that keeps me from endulging in such acts. And assuming the owners have this in order to bring people in, they wouldn't want fat or ugly people to rep. So is there a screening process? Does the manager tell ugly people to go hide in the back room?!? Soooooooo many questions...mostly why does everyone on the street when I'm walking alone past 10 look at me like I'm Jeffrey Dommer? Fo' reals. I mean, I appreciate it, I'm just saying. (p.s. GREAT IDEA. ESPECIALLY FOR THE UNDER 21 CROWD. DRINKING GAME. EVERYTIME I TYPE "MEAN" TAKE A SHOT!)

So, today I went to the San Gennero festival. I don't know how to spell it, but I don't particularly see that as relevant, in order to get my CANNOLI. aka. G-d's reproductive organ. Now, I mean, this is a "G" post people, so I'm being as discreet as possible, but cannolis, they do resemble certain aspects of the male anatomy. And eating them does resemble certain actions one might take with said piece of anatomy. My favorite part of the cannoli is the cream in the middle! And I could swallow every last morsel. In fact, I did, then slightly panicked when I was told that cannoli cream is indeed a relative of cheese which makes my stomach implode upon itself (thanks parasites!) and the urge to expel from both ends of the gastrointestinal tract quite overwhelming. But I mean, yum.

After cannolis, I returned to the Broome dorm with J and C to hang. I was almost not allowed in/summarily executed when I attempted to "break in." Realistically there was a change in policy regarding NYU students entering dorms when they're out of NYU housing, and the security guard is a meglomaniac. (Think night manager of women's clothes at Walmart!) The little power he has, he exercises with a vengance. And every time C attempted to coax him into submission with "she goes to NYU." He strangely replied with, "we're all NYU." Which I think is realistically untrue, but metaphorically very true regarding my life, and anything below 23rd st.

Once inside, phew that was hard!, we decided to "sporcle." Which is basically code for random timed quizzes regarding very specialized informational skills. Between the 3 of us. We couldn't finish ANY. Asian countries, USA capitals, European countries, Lord of the Rings Characters, all the words to that Frost poem about two streets. I mean, we couldn't even do one about fast food! And we're AMERICANS it's our soverign right to know everything about being fatasses. We rule the free world on fatasses, WE ARE FATASSES. And yet, no cigar. Finally we found one about the colors of the rainbow that we could finish. Although, and I am ashamed to admit this, if I were alone I wouldn't have finished. I thought the colors were blue and purple--not indigo and violet. This is why I need friends. And to hear stories of people who know less than I do about the world on a regular basis.

Upon leaving the dorm I was petriFIED to see the terrorizing guard-man. He however, was nowhere to be found. NO guard was anywhere to be found, which I find mightily interesting seeing as how I was waterboarded merely 3 hours prior for being a creeper. And though I'm NOT a rapist, if I were--I'd probs wait until after 10 to strike. As opposed to 8:30. Yes. I would also nickname myself "therapist." Because when you break the word up, it spells, "the-rapist." Not that I've given this much though.

p.s. coffee with D sat? Damn, I wish I was less socially awk.
p.p.s will try to post sexually suggestive cannoli pics in separate post. so i don't eff up and erase this whole thing. ! :)