My Body is Not Public Property
What a long and messed up weekend. This one's going to take a portion of my cunning - no, wait.
Thursday night I went over to Tom's to tell him about the job offer and get his take on things. As we're on the porch having a beer and talking, I see two shadowy figures out of the corner of my eye on the lawn next to us. Suddenly they begin laying posters in a pattern over the entire yard as Tom looks at me and says "Are those my roommates?" When the two figures dart back across the yard and run onto our porch giggling, it's revealed that it is in fact his roommates. Tom's neighbor walks out onto his porch yelling "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" as Dan and Nick hide behind the recliner. Here while walking home the two found a box of discarded women's rights posters from a march and rally in the city last month. They ganked the entire thing and over 100 hot pink women now don Parkview Ave. declaring "My Body is Not Public Property!" We hung one on the refrigerator next to the picture of the guy saying "Iron my Shirt Bitch".
The guys also reveal to me that they discovered my bra stuffed in the couch cushions the other day and like any rational man would do, hung it from the mantle in the living room. I haven't taken it down yet - who am I to argue with fine interior decorating?
I woke up Saturday and realized that at some point my patch had fallen off. I made my appointment to go get Plan B and as the nurse came in to take my vitals, she took one look at me and left the room. When she came back she had a questionnaire for me to fill out and said I would need to talk to a social worker/psychiatrist type of deal. I was confused as to what was going on, here I thought they were going to hand me two pills, take one now, take one in twelve hours, pregnancy test in a week, good to go. As I'm talking to the doctor I realize they now assume that I've been raped - the bruises on my arms that look like someone held me down, the bruises on my neck that look like I've been choked, needing emergency contraception - as it all falls into place I start laughing and try to explain for the next hour that no, I haven't in fact been raped, I just like really rough sex. Is that so hard to believe?
I finally left with my magical pills and a new patch to put on for the next week. I stopped at the bank to take out enough money to fill the prescription and get lunch for the day, when the bastard that is the ATM in the quad eats my card for the second time in a month. Lovely. I call my Mom for an afternoon of bitching about all of this and she interrupts me:
"You'll never believe who's getting married"
I roll my eyes and groan, thinking here we go, yet another person I went to high school with will now be getting married.
"Oh god, is this going to depress me?"
"No, no it's not going to depress you. At least I don't think it will"
My eyebrows are raised at this point.
"Okay Nana, so who's getting married?"
"Your Poppy"
I stop dead in my tracks on the middle of Atwood St., double over, and laugh so hard tears come to my eyes and I think I'm going hyperventilate.
You see, my grandmother died last January and Poppy was devastated. He actually locked himself in his trailer at one point and tried to burn it down. He moved in with my Mom shortly after that incident and I took a semester off school to move home and help take care of him. His mental health got better, though he's still not "all together there". He started dating sometime after he moved back into his own place, though dating consisted of walks around the gated community holding hands. It was cute and we all thought it was harmless, until he called my Mom to tell her he'd been to the doctor and had returned with a fresh bottle of Viagra. There's just some things in life you don't want to know. When his new girlfriend informed him that she couldn't sleep with him until she was married, he proposed to her.
My 78 year old grandfather is getting married for a piece of ass. It brings a tear to my eye.
My Nana's getting a new Mommy.
Thursday night I went over to Tom's to tell him about the job offer and get his take on things. As we're on the porch having a beer and talking, I see two shadowy figures out of the corner of my eye on the lawn next to us. Suddenly they begin laying posters in a pattern over the entire yard as Tom looks at me and says "Are those my roommates?" When the two figures dart back across the yard and run onto our porch giggling, it's revealed that it is in fact his roommates. Tom's neighbor walks out onto his porch yelling "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" as Dan and Nick hide behind the recliner. Here while walking home the two found a box of discarded women's rights posters from a march and rally in the city last month. They ganked the entire thing and over 100 hot pink women now don Parkview Ave. declaring "My Body is Not Public Property!" We hung one on the refrigerator next to the picture of the guy saying "Iron my Shirt Bitch".
The guys also reveal to me that they discovered my bra stuffed in the couch cushions the other day and like any rational man would do, hung it from the mantle in the living room. I haven't taken it down yet - who am I to argue with fine interior decorating?
I woke up Saturday and realized that at some point my patch had fallen off. I made my appointment to go get Plan B and as the nurse came in to take my vitals, she took one look at me and left the room. When she came back she had a questionnaire for me to fill out and said I would need to talk to a social worker/psychiatrist type of deal. I was confused as to what was going on, here I thought they were going to hand me two pills, take one now, take one in twelve hours, pregnancy test in a week, good to go. As I'm talking to the doctor I realize they now assume that I've been raped - the bruises on my arms that look like someone held me down, the bruises on my neck that look like I've been choked, needing emergency contraception - as it all falls into place I start laughing and try to explain for the next hour that no, I haven't in fact been raped, I just like really rough sex. Is that so hard to believe?
I finally left with my magical pills and a new patch to put on for the next week. I stopped at the bank to take out enough money to fill the prescription and get lunch for the day, when the bastard that is the ATM in the quad eats my card for the second time in a month. Lovely. I call my Mom for an afternoon of bitching about all of this and she interrupts me:
"You'll never believe who's getting married"
I roll my eyes and groan, thinking here we go, yet another person I went to high school with will now be getting married.
"Oh god, is this going to depress me?"
"No, no it's not going to depress you. At least I don't think it will"
My eyebrows are raised at this point.
"Okay Nana, so who's getting married?"
"Your Poppy"
I stop dead in my tracks on the middle of Atwood St., double over, and laugh so hard tears come to my eyes and I think I'm going hyperventilate.
You see, my grandmother died last January and Poppy was devastated. He actually locked himself in his trailer at one point and tried to burn it down. He moved in with my Mom shortly after that incident and I took a semester off school to move home and help take care of him. His mental health got better, though he's still not "all together there". He started dating sometime after he moved back into his own place, though dating consisted of walks around the gated community holding hands. It was cute and we all thought it was harmless, until he called my Mom to tell her he'd been to the doctor and had returned with a fresh bottle of Viagra. There's just some things in life you don't want to know. When his new girlfriend informed him that she couldn't sleep with him until she was married, he proposed to her.
My 78 year old grandfather is getting married for a piece of ass. It brings a tear to my eye.
My Nana's getting a new Mommy.