Connoisseuring It Up
Five years ago next... Uh... This week and next, week, I guess... Let's see, carry the seven...
Anyway, during April of 2000, I went to Washington DC with a group of students from my school, with my high school history teacher as our advisor. We were part of a larger group arranged and supervised by the Close Up Foundation. For some reason, for that week in Washington DC, I was a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude. There were high school girls licking pizza grease off of my fingers, and saying "Hi, [Fly]!" as I walked by, even if I hadn't met them. It was outstanding; unfortunately, the vast majority of the pictures from that week have disappeared, though I still see three or four of the other students from my state on campus; I think we're all in our last terms at [Generic University], except for Keith.
As many of you know, I have been without tangible female companionship for six months and fourteen days. Before spring holiday from school, I had a very informal date with a girl who I've had a class or two with. Today we had another impromptu date, and spent a couple of hours together. This included making plans for a third date. This date is to include:
The two of us watching The Ladies' Man
The two of us checking out the October 1999 edition of Playboy*
A possible reading from Plutarch
An off chance of some light debauchery and hedonism, though I'm not banking on this
I'm tempted to nickname this candidate "the Whore" or "the Stripper" or something, as our conversations invariably make mention of some sort of inappropriate reference to her having joked about pimping herself out or something; but I won't assign such a moniker just yet. I get the feeling that she's a pretty nice girl, though maybe with an inappropriate streak. I think the best alias for her at this point is probably "Chatty Cathy," as she has a tendency to imitate Forrest Gump by "jabbering on and on like a monkey in a tree."
Will it go anywhere? Doubtful; she and I both graduate in ten weeks, and God only knows where the two of us will end up. It nice to have a piece of eye candy to walk around with every now and again, though.
At the very least, it's a good sensation to feel like a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude once again.
* Okay, so you're thinking, "What's this!? The Fly, a strapping young Anglican man, mixed up with Playboy!? In the words of the French... 'Ow can zzis beee!?' He's never acted like some sort of Lycan-esque savage before!" Well, aside from having subscribed to Maxim for a couple of years, I have one issue of Playboy: the October 1999 issue. Why do I have it? Because it was the last time Playboy ran a "Girls of the Pac 10" spread. As you can already figure out from reading my rants, I go to [Undisclosed University], which is on the West Coast.
And why would I have so little class as to include my copy in a third date? Well, Playboy will be doing another round of the Girls of the Pac 10, and it was mentioned during our lunch conversation. She expressed an interest in seeing my copy of the last Girls of the Pac 10 issue. It serves as nothing more than a conversation piece for me, a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude.
Anyway, during April of 2000, I went to Washington DC with a group of students from my school, with my high school history teacher as our advisor. We were part of a larger group arranged and supervised by the Close Up Foundation. For some reason, for that week in Washington DC, I was a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude. There were high school girls licking pizza grease off of my fingers, and saying "Hi, [Fly]!" as I walked by, even if I hadn't met them. It was outstanding; unfortunately, the vast majority of the pictures from that week have disappeared, though I still see three or four of the other students from my state on campus; I think we're all in our last terms at [Generic University], except for Keith.
As many of you know, I have been without tangible female companionship for six months and fourteen days. Before spring holiday from school, I had a very informal date with a girl who I've had a class or two with. Today we had another impromptu date, and spent a couple of hours together. This included making plans for a third date. This date is to include:
I'm tempted to nickname this candidate "the Whore" or "the Stripper" or something, as our conversations invariably make mention of some sort of inappropriate reference to her having joked about pimping herself out or something; but I won't assign such a moniker just yet. I get the feeling that she's a pretty nice girl, though maybe with an inappropriate streak. I think the best alias for her at this point is probably "Chatty Cathy," as she has a tendency to imitate Forrest Gump by "jabbering on and on like a monkey in a tree."
Will it go anywhere? Doubtful; she and I both graduate in ten weeks, and God only knows where the two of us will end up. It nice to have a piece of eye candy to walk around with every now and again, though.
At the very least, it's a good sensation to feel like a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude once again.
* Okay, so you're thinking, "What's this!? The Fly, a strapping young Anglican man, mixed up with Playboy!? In the words of the French... 'Ow can zzis beee!?' He's never acted like some sort of Lycan-esque savage before!" Well, aside from having subscribed to Maxim for a couple of years, I have one issue of Playboy: the October 1999 issue. Why do I have it? Because it was the last time Playboy ran a "Girls of the Pac 10" spread. As you can already figure out from reading my rants, I go to [Undisclosed University], which is on the West Coast.
And why would I have so little class as to include my copy in a third date? Well, Playboy will be doing another round of the Girls of the Pac 10, and it was mentioned during our lunch conversation. She expressed an interest in seeing my copy of the last Girls of the Pac 10 issue. It serves as nothing more than a conversation piece for me, a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude.
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