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Typical High School Party (Not me, I found this on google)

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 01:06:00 GMT

Remember in elementary school when all your little friends would come up to you, tickle your knee, and tease you that you were boy crazy? I tried to fight it, but there isn’t any amount of kicking or struggling that will ease my ticklishness. I wasn’t boy crazy. I didn’t have my first crush until fifth grade, and at that point, other kids have stopped tickling your knee. The new approach is much more direct: circle whether or not you like me. Please.
Until you’re ripe. It’s a high school party and we’re gathered around in a circle. Sippin’ on Gin and Juice. There’s a coffee table in the middle where everyone is putting his/her bud lights and cranberry vodkas. I don’t remember what we’re playing, but some sort of card game. I’m sitting next to one of the hottest guys at the party. I have a very specific type and he fits it to a t! He notices me. I have a boyfriend…I don’t tell him that. We start making eye contact. Subtle. We start talking, and then he tickles my knee. “It’s your turn,” he says. Did anyone see that? I have chills running up and down my spine, and I have to pretend like nothing happened. I can still feel the specific area where his hand massaged my knee. I can’t believe my body reacted this way, doesn’t it know that I’m off limits?
I can’t get the incident out of my mind, and so I ask my friend about it on the drive home, “He touched my knee.”
“And?”
“Well, that’s it…maybe you had to be there.”
Maybe. A couple of years later, after my boyfriend and I had broken up, I went to a party at the knee rubber’s house. He didn’t remember me. He pulled the same move – grabbing my knee, and again gave my body the most intense rushes. We ended up sleeping together. Maybe I am boy crazy after all.

bubble

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 12:57:39 GMT

I’m prepared. I’ve studied the SAT prep guides inside and out, I attended every single one of my SAT prep courses, and I’ve taken hundreds of practice tests. I’m ready. I heard you get 200 points just for getting your name right. I’m handed the test. The proctor tells us to fill out our personal information, we have ten minutes. I write in my name and fill in the appropriate bubbles. Shit. No one prepared me for the race section. How do fill in one bubble for my race? I don’t want to be an “other.” What is an other anyway? I start to get anxious, my heart starts beating…only four minutes left. I’m having a hard time holding the number two pencil in my hand. Will people think I’m cheating if I fill in African American? Is it cheating? I’m not fully African-American, but my mother is. What about my Caucasian father? My Jewish friends tell me that you’re Jewish if your mother is Jewish, so I decide to circle that bubble. Ok, it’s done. Sorry dad.

I got into the school of my dreams – my first choice. It’s a beautiful campus with ivy circling all of the buildings. Most of the students here are white. I’m half white, but I’m clearly darker than the majority. I can tell they only think I was accepted because of my race. No one ever asks me my SAT score or my grade point average, they just assume I’m not as qualified as they are. Maybe they’re right, maybe I don’t belong here. I don’t have a lot of friends. I’m not black enough. I’m not white enough. What if I hadn’t filled in that bubble?

First Date

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 00:16:28 GMT

Scene 1
A woman’s bedroom in an apartment. There are several band posters on the walls, along with some pictures of family and friends, a collection of athletic trophies and awards, a mirror, and clothes strewn all about. The vanity has makeup and perfume all over it.
Jenny: <lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling> Are you excited? I think you guys would be perfect together.
Gina: <her back to the audience, putting on makeup...> Well, hold off on the wedding planners until after we’ve had our first date, then we’ll see how it goes. I am nervous. I don’t know if it has much to do with him, I mean, he’s cute and nice and all, but first dates are so exposing. I feel like he’ll be judging everything I do and I can’t be myself.
Jenny: No one’s really themselves on a first date, but try not to be too aggressive or confrontational and you’ll be fine. Where are your magazines?
Gina: All over the place.
Jenny: <after picking up a few off the floor> Do you have any magazines that aren’t so heavy? Maybe you should invest in one of those frou frou ones with dating advice!
Gina: Hey! So, what are you going to do while I’m gone?
Jenny: I was going to go over to Sam’s to watch some TV show at 7:00.
Gina: <looks at watch> It’s 6:55, I don’t think you’re going to make it…
Jenny: He can wait, I have to see the finished product!
Gina: I’m going to act like I didn’t hear that, alright…Tada. <she turns around>
Jenny: Wow!
Gina: What? Does it look bad?
Jenny: No, I just didn’t realize you were that horny!
Gina: Shut up! It’s just a cocktail dress!
Jenny: With a pushup bra, a thong, three inch stilettos and heavy eyeliner!
Gina: Well, I just <Cell phone rings – sounds like a police siren> Ugh. <presses the ignore button and throws the phone on the bed>
Jenny: Who was that?
Gina: Karen.
Jenny: Karen? Karen who?

Balance of Power

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 22:29:43 GMT

1. She is a woman.
2. She is a citizen of the United States, and she is a woman.
3. She has long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a beautiful smile and she is a woman.
4. She also has B cup tits and a round ass, and she is a woman.
5. She loves sleeping, but she hates dreaming, and she is a woman.
6. After days of vomiting and pain, she had her first period when she was fourteen years old, the sign that she is a woman.
7. She had her first orgasm, not from herself, but from a married man who was thirty-two years old at the time. He was best friends with her father. She was fifteen, she is now a woman.
8. She has never had an orgasm from sex. .
9. She has sex on the first date, she is a woman.
10. She needs makeup to feel beautiful, she is a woman.
11. She hates shopping, but does it anyway…all the time; she is a woman.
12. She loves beer, but she usually drinks vodka, she is a woman.
13. She is shy – an observer – and she is a woman.
14. She doesn’t have a good relationship with her mother, and she is a woman.
15. She played three varsity sports in high school and received the MVP award in each, and she is a woman.
16. She knows all the guitarists, drummers, and singers for every rock band since the seventies, and she is a woman.
17. She’s afraid of love, and she is a woman.
18. She craves love, and she is a woman.
19. She can’t sleep unless she has checked the locks three times, and she is a woman,
20. She’s been called a slut by both women and men, and she’s a woman.
21. She was date raped, and she is a woman.
22. She has rape fantasies, and she is a woman.
23. She has shaved everything before, but now she only shaves her legs and her armpits…on special occasions, and she is a woman.
24. She doesn’t wear any jewelry, except for a watch that she feels naked without, and she’s a woman.
25. She prefers to watch DVDs rather than television, and she is a woman.

Mountain in my Dreams

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 23:20:41 GMT

I’m at the foot of the mountain. It’s not a normal mountain with jagged edges with trees and rocks, no…this is a phallic mountain. This mountain is smooth and nearly impossible to get to the top, but I must do it. I have to get away from whoever’s chasing me. I do not know who is chasing me because he keeps morphing into other another man – some are familiar, I recognize my older cousin, however some are guys I barely know – the guy who whistled at me when I walked into the gas station, but the others are strangers. Scary strangers…with mustaches. I’m having another nightmare. I know I’m dreaming but I can’t wake up. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I’m completely silenced. I’m at the stage in my dream where I have no control over the plot.

I keep running. What is that noise? Clip, clop, clip, clop? It sounds like a two legged horse! I look down…it’s me! Why am I wearing these ridiculous stilettos? They’re not negatively affecting my running, I’m fast, however they’re giving away my location. I kick them off and continue running. I’m running in circles on the path of this mountain.

My perspective changes. I’m not me anymore. I see me running in circles around this mountain. It could be a nice break, but I get more panicky. I just see myself running seemingly aimlessly around this pinkish mountain! He’s starting to gain on me. I start to sweat.

Ok good, I’m me again. Almost to the top. I keep running, I can’t see him anymore. Something starts to shake. I start to shake. It’s not a mountain after all, it’s a volcano! I’m eight inches from the top. The shaking gets more intense. I lose my footing, and I’m falling. Right before I get to the ground…I wake up. It’s over.

The Joys of Penishood

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 21:52:38 GMT

A short play on my identity.