I need an adult!

In spite of being a 26 year old woman who has indiscriminately dabbled in slut a time or two (who hasn't? don't lie) and who had a BF for a million years, I have a really hard time talking about s-e-x. I mean, really hard (ha!). Like I'd rather say vajayjay or bajingo than the v-word. I snicker when I hear boner. Saying breasts is too adult. I prefer boobies. I don't know how I've managed to get this far without being able to utter simple anatomy, but here I am, red faced, giggly and squirmy. The whole thing's quite ridiculous, really and I'm certainly not proud of it. I am an educated woman who should be able to talk about s-e-x like a normal person (whatever that means), but I just can't - without laughing a little bit. Like in the middle. The thing is, I want to learn. Is it something you're born with? Because I don't have it. I think part of the problem was having a BF from high school through, I don't know, last year whose idea of dirty/sweet talking was "hey, you wanna?" later, this would be followed up with me saying, "get that away from my butt" and then "seriously, dude, get that away from my ass" and then finally, "hey, I was talking to your mom this morning about our plans for Christmas..." and then he'd roll over. Match made in heaven. I need 900 operator training. Is there a workbook? Remember when Elaine whispers dirty nothings into Jerry's tape recorder and they all fall for her? Just sayin.'

They're heeere (Poltergeist reference - get it? No? Ok.)

I went out for a drink last night at The Mont, a Norman mainstay and home of the "Sooner Swirl" a frosty, purple concoction with Everclear that I will not be enjoying again for quite some time. From my perch at the bar, I noticed something. Coinciding with the most wonderful time of the year (college football season) is its most horrifying byproduct - the infestation of frat rats in the lovely hamlet of Norman, Oklahoma. Now, this is the first summer I've spent in good ol' Norman since 2002, and damn, things have changed (or I've forgotten how they were because I'm getting old - I will go with change). Now, not all sorority sisters are of the sorostitute persuasion (this whole post is a bit of a gross generalization), but based on my completely unscientific research, it seems like more and more fall into this category. It appears to be an epidemic. A sexy epidemic. No, not sexy. Trashy. Ok, sometimes sexy. In spite of my palpable hatred of their vapid existence, some of them are fucking hot. And the others try real hard. Basically, I detest them because they lead the boys of Norman to believe that all girls should look and behave like these chicks. Not so, I say. I'm quite a catch (if you have no standards whatsoever) even if I do dress like a lesbina sometimes (yeah, I wore Chacos to the bar last night - that's how I roll).

The natural habitat of the sorostitute is the bar, fraternity or local Jamba Juice location. In off hours, they can be seen driving about town in Range Rovers, 4-Runners, or Lexus SUVs (those less fortunate 'tutes are often seen in Jeeps and Explorers) wearing Dior sunglasses larger than a small breed dog, carrying an oversized Coach bag (stocked with, I imagine, condoms and lip gloss) in shorts that barely cover their ass, a tank top emblazoned with Greek letters and Nike shocks. Chances are, you will catch a peek of Victoria Secret's PINK line of underwear where most normal people would be sporting a muffin top. During peak hours, they gather at local bars clad in BCBG heels, Miss Sixty cleavage baring dresses displaying a store bought tan, freshly highlighted hair, a (real) Prada purse, Chanel eye liner and saucer sized earrings. During the winter, they wear sorority issued black ass-pants, puffy North Face coats, and pointy toed boots that are more expensive than everything in my closet combined. Their diet consists of Keystone Light, lettuce, Coke (diet and Colombian) and semen. While they have evolved to develop a highly sensitive popped collar radar to detect potential husbands, they have been unable to increase their capacity to drink more than two beers without whipping out their pink Razr to drunk dial other sisters or make out with the button downed douche that bought their drinks.

God love 'em.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Expanded Edition

Hi there folks. I love a good time as much as the next girl, but seriously. I am not in high school anymore. But I can hang out with my high school friends! Mike was in town last night. Usually he lives in Chicago, so it was a treat. I proceeded to imbibe one too many red cups and well, I danced, which is NEVER a good idea. Never. I can't find my earrings or my dignity.

This is Mike. We go way back. He is drinking the "red cup" which is $3.25 worth of awesome. Except when I drink it. I'm pretty sure he's rethinking my wedding invitation right about now.

I don't know who this guy is, but he was at our table. I'm sure we were introduced, but I'm not so good with names. Anyway, The Deli was packed as usual. Good times. Except not.

In music news, I decided to ramp it up a bit and say stuff besides list songs I like. Prepare to be bored because I am slowly and painfully weaning myself from my unbridled iTunes addiction:

Love, Love, Love - The Mountain Goats: I came across this song because of Brotherhood 2.0. You might have heard of this, but I had not. These guys decided they would only communicate via video blog for a year. Freaking amazing. Check out June 18: Leaving New York.

Icky Thump - The White Stripes: Oh White Stripes. You've done it again. I wish I wasn't one of the lemurs falling off the edge of a cliff over this one, but hey, what're you gonna do? They are, after all, the Clooneys of rock.



Power Of Two - Indigo Girls: This one goes out to the real Zack Harrison. How he knew I would need to know this song as a future student at Smith is bizarre. This song is as sappy as it gets, and it gets me every time.

I See A Different You - Koop: Thanks to World of B, from whom I learned of elbo.ws. More ways to waste my life away listening to music no one else I know likes. Yay!

I Wanna Buy You A Ring - Huffamoose: I am too trusting. I read a shit ton of blogs (by read I mean look at pictures and drool over witty comments) and am willing to listen to anything, but Jason Mulgrew, I want my $.99 back. I hate HATE this song, yet it remains in my current rotation. You are a snake in the grass.

The Underdog - Spoon: I do not fall in love easily. Or ever. Yet somehow, every Spoon song I hear is like a little Valentine. Perhaps it's simply the fact that the name of the band evokes the promise of food, which I do love - no question.

Award Tour - A Tribe Called Quest: The other day, I was talking to G-race and she somehow convinced me to do something completely out of character, which is pretty much par for the course in our relationship. So I went to t-mobile and downloaded this song. I have no idea why, but now I'm actually glad my phone never rings - not because of the song, but because I'm one of those people now.



My Rights Versus Yours - The New Pornographers: Dear Neko Case, I'm still pissed at you for canceling your show, but I do like this song. You still owe me, though.

Killer Parties - The Hold Steady: Still a little high from the show, still a little in love with Craig Finn.

Direct Hit - Art Brut: Not gonna lie, had no idea who these guys were until a week or so ago, but I'm down with it.

Mockingbird - Grant Lee Buffalo: Good night driving song. Good aimless day driving song.

I Never - Rilo Kiley*: I am apparently in high school again. Rumors are swirling. I am dating people I'm not, sleeping with people I won't, am afraid to show my face at a local bookstore, etc. Good times. What does any of this have to do with this song? Well, I was hanging out with some kids this weekend at the most depressing bar I've ever been to, but the jukebox was freaking amazing! I played Ryan Adams! I made people listen to Portions for Foxes. It was great! It's like I was living in my iPod.

*This is hilarious! I couldn't find the song, but did come across this little montage of Kate and Sawyer set to music. Astounding.