(no subject)
First off: it is my birthday, so I'm twenty-two. Yay. This is a nothing birthday. In fact...they're all nothing birthdays from here on out, aren't they? I mean, obviously, your birthday is a special event and you are a beautiful and unique snowflake. But. After 21, there's not exactly a whole lot that separates this birthday from any other. Whoohoo! 25! I'm getting dumped off my parent's insurance!
So the roommate has recently arrived and this is a cautious experiment in How Well Emily Can Hold Her Shit Together. I haven't lived with a person (one with whom I am not engaging in nightime sexual congresses-and sometimes afternoon parliaments) since my freshman year of college. Those people were cokeheads and scary hippie chicks. This girl is nice, funny, geeky and seems amenable to my lovely little quirks. So I get the call about an hour ago that there a little ways from the apartment and where should they park etc etc. And so begins the flurry, because I know that her mom is catholic. Not just little-c catholic, oh no. Her mother is Catholic. Capitolized-Big-C. Quick! Hide my bowl of condoms (not that I need a whole bowl of condoms, mind you, Mike and I have worked out this whole thing long ago. It's just that...well, they're free at the clinic. And I want to promote safe-sex. Especially in my house. Or, you know, if friends are coming over and they're kinda slutty in their own time, I want them to have easy access. Whatever. I don't have to justify my bowl of condoms-and lube- to you, jerk.)! Hide my drugs! Can't do anything about the pinup magnets on the fridge, no time!
Oh god, there's a birthcontrol box in the bathroom trash. Oh lord, a pair of Extremely Sexy panties are hanging over the shower towel rod (they have to be handwashed, okay?).
My classification for underwear is as follows (for those of you taking notes). Level One: Rowr. Extremely Sexy. Ostentasiously sexy, even, the kind with lace and mesh and Yikes.
Level 2: Undies that are normal and workaday and yet Dayum. My Booty Is Delicious and Demands Attention.
Level 3: Fine, whatever, grab 'em out of the top drawer, I have 10 minutes before class.
Level 4: Erm. Hey honey! Why don't we turn out the lights before the pants come off? Because....it'll be fun! (Granny Panties fall into this category)
So the roommate has recently arrived and this is a cautious experiment in How Well Emily Can Hold Her Shit Together. I haven't lived with a person (one with whom I am not engaging in nightime sexual congresses-and sometimes afternoon parliaments) since my freshman year of college. Those people were cokeheads and scary hippie chicks. This girl is nice, funny, geeky and seems amenable to my lovely little quirks. So I get the call about an hour ago that there a little ways from the apartment and where should they park etc etc. And so begins the flurry, because I know that her mom is catholic. Not just little-c catholic, oh no. Her mother is Catholic. Capitolized-Big-C. Quick! Hide my bowl of condoms (not that I need a whole bowl of condoms, mind you, Mike and I have worked out this whole thing long ago. It's just that...well, they're free at the clinic. And I want to promote safe-sex. Especially in my house. Or, you know, if friends are coming over and they're kinda slutty in their own time, I want them to have easy access. Whatever. I don't have to justify my bowl of condoms-and lube- to you, jerk.)! Hide my drugs! Can't do anything about the pinup magnets on the fridge, no time!
Oh god, there's a birthcontrol box in the bathroom trash. Oh lord, a pair of Extremely Sexy panties are hanging over the shower towel rod (they have to be handwashed, okay?).
My classification for underwear is as follows (for those of you taking notes). Level One: Rowr. Extremely Sexy. Ostentasiously sexy, even, the kind with lace and mesh and Yikes.
Level 2: Undies that are normal and workaday and yet Dayum. My Booty Is Delicious and Demands Attention.
Level 3: Fine, whatever, grab 'em out of the top drawer, I have 10 minutes before class.
Level 4: Erm. Hey honey! Why don't we turn out the lights before the pants come off? Because....it'll be fun! (Granny Panties fall into this category)