a settled new lyfe...

*the scene opens with multiple moving boxes
piled amongst each other against the far right wall,
secksy moving men modeled and chiseled just
like your everyday Chelsea man; half his muscles
must be silicone...*

*zoom into me, in blue paint-stained overalls, looking
around through the dust, making my way over to one
of the boxes:

Ahhhh... here it is.

Today's post is going to be about my Valentine's Day,
the day of the year where I was kicked out of school
for not having paid tuition and had traveled like a
lamented ho all through out NYC's downtown losing myself
several times whilest keeping balance on the ice (and
you know us NYers can keep it on the ice) and finding
past life experiences in certain areas (i.e. the Rawhide
bar wherest I wentst last year [or the year before] on
St. Patrick's Day with my Irish friends [found here at
Irish Queers {NYC}]).

To start the day off, I had to walk my late ass to school,
which I was then kicked out for not having paid tuition as
stated above, then I headed to the city to see some gay
action, which of course I saw alot of because I just know
where to head to. During my journey at seeing the gayness,
I ran across a deli selling roses and decided to purchase
one for mother dearest and make my way over to her
workplace, however, the address completely escaped me at
the moment and I made my way all over Chelsea; from
Madison Sq. Garden downtown way past FIT
(Fashion Institute of Technology) [basically from W. 34th
Street to W. 17th Street] and across the avenues [across 6th
Ave to 9th Ave] trying to look all pretty and what not.
Alongst my way, I was asking various people where LeFrak
(Building, since LeFrak City is apparently in Queens) and
getting no responses, largely because no place with that name
exists. Thankfully, god and this one cute guy was on my side;
he sent me to this Gay Card Shop known as Rainbows and Triangles.
They run an internet spot in the back (because I didn't have
my laptop and I couldn't find a hot spot without having to
head back to 'sNice). This is where god steps in, my debit card,
which has practically NO MONEY in the account, just had the
three dollars necessary for me to get the fifteen minutes I
required to search for mother's work location and terrorize her
with the lonely rose I purchased. Once making my way out of the
card shop, I make a beeline for mother's job, walking with the
grace and prowess of an outstanding NYer, all the while singing
my Imogen Heap songs all out of tune yet totally stunning and
breathtakingly. Once I got there, however, after about walking
5 miles, I walk into the place and I swear to god, I saw
Courtney Love in her future self before she cleaned up. The bitch
scared me, made me want to pee, and made me lose all the sense
and all the confidence a NYer could have. I only remember asking
twice what floor was the company when I was clearly in the office
(it's storefront/first floor). Thankfully I made my ass out of
the place in a swift jog/run and head straight for the Center.

Oh no folks, the story doesn't end there.
Skip ahead about 30 minutes and now I find myself in the Center.
I'm on the 3rd floor reading the usual gay mags (Next,
MetroSource NY) when this freak comes up to me and asks me about
my hands,
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT?
Of course, after having been freaked out by the freak herself, I
was in no shape to try and regain any form of composure and had
just let the guy have his way with my hands. Fortunately (to be
soon found out as not!), some other dude (with earrings/obvious
drag queen) made his way by and scared the first one off. I
thought I was lucky until this guy decided to hit on me. What the
hell? Why am I suddenly attracking all this eww guys. I caught
his name however (Ronnie) and I try to run away, successfully,
and make my way down to the 2nd floor with these teens
(who I have seen before at the Y.E.S. program) though they
OBVIOUSLY didn't remember me, bitches.

We skip ahead another hour *approximately 3 o'clock now*
and I decide to head over to the Y.E.S. building and see what
they're up to. This average looking butch lesbian (was she?)
asks me in the most nicest possible manner (a first from a les
in my case) if I ever took an intake and whether or not I
would like one. I take one, which I believed to be a survey to
later find out I was totally wrong. The best part was the person
who conducted the after interview of the application process,
this hawt guy by the name of Nate. He kept pronoucing my
name with a long a sound (?), as if he were british, but I
didn't mind, the guy was fine as hell.
*peeks at his ass a few more times*

The day wraps up with me heading home around 4 o'clock
and hitting the sack until my brother gets home. Which
leads up to now, 11:59 PM...
*submits post*