Monday, November 05, 2007
Over the hump
In my epic career of sluttiness, I've accrued a lot of extra-special and memorable notches in my belt. I've had sex with men, women, and men and women at the same time. I've had sex in cars, public parks, public restrooms, sleazy motels, fancy hotels, floors, stairs, counters, bathtubs, showers, swimming pools, hot tubs, couches, armchairs, desks, and once, the hood of a Ford Taurus. In the past, I've managed to get laid in unexpected places and/or ridiculous situations.
Some of my past exploits are tales of legend. Quoth Robert Sylvester Kelly, "I'm a player, homie, and that's a well-known factor." I got laid with some random DUDE (and an actual biological dude with a Y chromosome and everything, not a F2M tranny named Billy, Ethan, or Max) at my Smith College two-year reunion. Then the uptight bitches down the hall in reunion housing got pissed because I was having loud "male-female" breeder sex and they could hear it. After the Crab Feed (fundraiser at my high school I attend in the P-N-Dub each year) two years ago, I fucked the former quarterback of my high school football team on MillerTime's couch. Last year after the Crab Feed, I had a threesome. I fucked a seaman in the bathroom of baggage claim #4 at Bradley International Airport in Windsor Locks, Connecticut at 5 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning in 1997. At my old job prior to grad school, I carried on a torrid interoffice affair with one of the business development guys from the company on the floor above us, which consisted largely of us sneaking off to the vacant building next door to ours to bang on a desk in some empty office on the fifth floor. And that was after I broke up with the well-intentioned but unfortunately crazed shipping and receiving guy from my company after sorting out a duel for my affections between him and my former boss by going on a Seattle radio show and humping a glass door. No joke. I've been handcuffed to the radiator and fucked on the floor of my college newspaper's office. I made an amateur FFFM porn. My sex life is, needless to say, pretty active and FULL of drama sometimes. It's not exactly "Trapped in the Closet" crazy, but it's nonetheless rich with singular memories.
However, in spite of my colorful and storied sexual past, there was one notch in my bedpost I had not yet achieved: I never fucked a grad student. This was really starting to bother me, because I am going to graduate next year, and if I leave without managing to bed at least one of them, then it will psychologically have a most negative impact on my perceived pimp-hand strength. I mean, what kind of a skank-ass ho am I if I can't nail at least ONE science nerd? That should be like shooting fish in a fucking barrel! It's not like there's a lot of competition, and the desperation level is high. There are some decent looking people in grad school, but more than half of them are married or in a relationship, and the ones that aren't usually act like they have fucking Asberger's syndrome or some other form of autism that renders them socially dysfunctional. The cute ones who actually have normal social skills and are single are often either boring or annoying. I can't tell you how many times I've been at a party chatting up some honey and being surprised that (s)he's a good-looking grad student, only to have them start blabbing about their thesis project. I never want to bang anyone who won't shut the fuck up about their cloning vectors of choice or the technical problems they've been having with their western blots. SAVE IT FOR YOUR LAB MEETING OR DATA CLUB! And no, it doesn't turn me on to talk about my shitshow of a thesis project, either. The few remaining viable candidates for me to fuck based on being hot enough, tall enough, and interesting enough to even tolerate the kind of conversation that leads back to one of our respective bedrooms have not been the easy quarry I thought they would. Historically, my attempts to proactively acquire grad school ass have failed miserably.
Several years ago, I got to be friends with this guy who has since graduated, who I'll called MIke Sucks, because he did. He was very flirty with me, and we used to do stuff together. We'd smoke pot, go Christmas shopping, go vote, and get drunk together. I was certain that he was sweating me. One day, he strolled into Free Friday (grad student happy hour), and walked straight up to me, handed me a beer, and started massaging my shoulders. I made up my mind that later that night, as LL Cool Jew and I were having a housewarming party at the bar downstairs from the apartment we had just moved into, I was going to bang him. So when he showed up at the Soundz Lounge and made a beeline for me, I bought him a drink and got into flirting. Unfortunately, I got a little overconfident, and said, "So, at what point do you want to get out of here and fuck?" He got this look on his face that was an infuriating combination of pity and discomfort. "Uhhhh, sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Razzy, but I don't hook up with people." I was mortified. "What do you mean?" If I were a Terminator, I'd see some kind of "SYSTEM ERROR: DOES NOT COMPUTE" flashing on my screen over and over. Who doesn't "hook up with people"? I was like, "So you'll sleep with me if we go out on a date or something?" I think then I asked him on a date. The whole experience was horrifying. Even worse, Mike Sucks continued to flirt with me. I am now convinced he was completely using me for ego inflation purposes, as I am sure it gives a bald neuroscientist a serious masculinity boost to have a fierce bitch like myself on his jock. Later, this so-called "friend" of mine who kept pestering me not to give up on Mike Sucks because she thought we'd make a cute couple was dogsitting for me and actually hooked up with him in my fucking apartment! Duplicitous bitch. When Mike Sucks graduated and convinced her to drop out of Columbia and move to California with him, I was not sorry to see them go. They are two assholes who assuredly deserve each other.
A little while after picking my bruised ego up after the Mike Sucks debacle, I decided to give pursuit of a grad student another shot. This dude who was famous for being a huge asshole (he actually lists "judging people" as an "interest" on his Friendster page) e-mailed me to say he'd discovered my blog and was in awe of me, as people tend to be once they get hit with a blast of hot Razzification. A bit of e-mail witty banter ensued, and I decided that he was sweating me and considered the possibility of fucking him. I tried to be a little smoother with him than I was with Mike Sucks, and invited him to go "drink scotch and make fun of people with me." Unfortunately, he declined on the grounds that I "intimidate the shit out of" him. Thanks, Strong Personality, for cockblocking me. Then this dude got together with another grad student, who is really a very nice girl, and who he has been with for a year now. I wish them well, but nonetheless am annoyed that I failed yet again to bag a grad student.
The closest I ever got was last summer at the party for the virology floor in our building. It got late, and the party dwindled to me and J-Sexy and two girls from the lab down the hall. One of these girls confessed that she had a crush on me, and the next thing I knew, we were doing enough hooking up to make J-Sexy say the next day, "You were practicolly going down on each other!" That wasn't true, but we were making out and groping each other's breasts. We probably would have progressed to hot lezzie crotch action if she didn't have a boyfriend who disapproved of her getting some pussy on the side. Oh well. I told her that anytime she wants to take a ride on my strap-on to holler at me, but I'm not holding my breath since she and the boyfriend seem pretty serious.
I was beginning to think that the ill-fated sex I almost had with the Ja-Fake-An who doesn't eat pussy during my recruiting weekend had cursed me with bad mojo and that I was destined never to score with any grad student honeys. I felt it would be a dreadful blow to my reputation as a player exuding mackadelic nightspot realness to never give so much as a lousy BJ to one of these fucking science nerds. By all rights, they should be beating my door down. I have big tits, I might not be a supermodel but I'm not ugly, I'm smart and funny, and I totally fuck on the first date. What's the problem, geeks?
Lucky for me, on Friday a posse of grad students happened to randomly stroll drunkenly into the bar where J-Sexy and I were kicking it with a couple other friends. I'd been drinking scotch and was feeling invincible, so I started chatting up this first year. And my mojo has adjusted itself, because this 23-year-old honey didn't stand a chance against a voracious cougar full of Johnnie Walker like myself. I totally made him take me to his crib and do me like I wanted to be done. YES! VICTORY IS MINE! I saw, I conquered, and I came. I can graduate now with a true sense of accomplishment, and not a worry in the world about not being able to score a science nerd. My slut credentials are still valid, I'm awesome, and all is right in Razzyville. I RULE!
Some of my past exploits are tales of legend. Quoth Robert Sylvester Kelly, "I'm a player, homie, and that's a well-known factor." I got laid with some random DUDE (and an actual biological dude with a Y chromosome and everything, not a F2M tranny named Billy, Ethan, or Max) at my Smith College two-year reunion. Then the uptight bitches down the hall in reunion housing got pissed because I was having loud "male-female" breeder sex and they could hear it. After the Crab Feed (fundraiser at my high school I attend in the P-N-Dub each year) two years ago, I fucked the former quarterback of my high school football team on MillerTime's couch. Last year after the Crab Feed, I had a threesome. I fucked a seaman in the bathroom of baggage claim #4 at Bradley International Airport in Windsor Locks, Connecticut at 5 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning in 1997. At my old job prior to grad school, I carried on a torrid interoffice affair with one of the business development guys from the company on the floor above us, which consisted largely of us sneaking off to the vacant building next door to ours to bang on a desk in some empty office on the fifth floor. And that was after I broke up with the well-intentioned but unfortunately crazed shipping and receiving guy from my company after sorting out a duel for my affections between him and my former boss by going on a Seattle radio show and humping a glass door. No joke. I've been handcuffed to the radiator and fucked on the floor of my college newspaper's office. I made an amateur FFFM porn. My sex life is, needless to say, pretty active and FULL of drama sometimes. It's not exactly "Trapped in the Closet" crazy, but it's nonetheless rich with singular memories.
However, in spite of my colorful and storied sexual past, there was one notch in my bedpost I had not yet achieved: I never fucked a grad student. This was really starting to bother me, because I am going to graduate next year, and if I leave without managing to bed at least one of them, then it will psychologically have a most negative impact on my perceived pimp-hand strength. I mean, what kind of a skank-ass ho am I if I can't nail at least ONE science nerd? That should be like shooting fish in a fucking barrel! It's not like there's a lot of competition, and the desperation level is high. There are some decent looking people in grad school, but more than half of them are married or in a relationship, and the ones that aren't usually act like they have fucking Asberger's syndrome or some other form of autism that renders them socially dysfunctional. The cute ones who actually have normal social skills and are single are often either boring or annoying. I can't tell you how many times I've been at a party chatting up some honey and being surprised that (s)he's a good-looking grad student, only to have them start blabbing about their thesis project. I never want to bang anyone who won't shut the fuck up about their cloning vectors of choice or the technical problems they've been having with their western blots. SAVE IT FOR YOUR LAB MEETING OR DATA CLUB! And no, it doesn't turn me on to talk about my shitshow of a thesis project, either. The few remaining viable candidates for me to fuck based on being hot enough, tall enough, and interesting enough to even tolerate the kind of conversation that leads back to one of our respective bedrooms have not been the easy quarry I thought they would. Historically, my attempts to proactively acquire grad school ass have failed miserably.
Several years ago, I got to be friends with this guy who has since graduated, who I'll called MIke Sucks, because he did. He was very flirty with me, and we used to do stuff together. We'd smoke pot, go Christmas shopping, go vote, and get drunk together. I was certain that he was sweating me. One day, he strolled into Free Friday (grad student happy hour), and walked straight up to me, handed me a beer, and started massaging my shoulders. I made up my mind that later that night, as LL Cool Jew and I were having a housewarming party at the bar downstairs from the apartment we had just moved into, I was going to bang him. So when he showed up at the Soundz Lounge and made a beeline for me, I bought him a drink and got into flirting. Unfortunately, I got a little overconfident, and said, "So, at what point do you want to get out of here and fuck?" He got this look on his face that was an infuriating combination of pity and discomfort. "Uhhhh, sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Razzy, but I don't hook up with people." I was mortified. "What do you mean?" If I were a Terminator, I'd see some kind of "SYSTEM ERROR: DOES NOT COMPUTE" flashing on my screen over and over. Who doesn't "hook up with people"? I was like, "So you'll sleep with me if we go out on a date or something?" I think then I asked him on a date. The whole experience was horrifying. Even worse, Mike Sucks continued to flirt with me. I am now convinced he was completely using me for ego inflation purposes, as I am sure it gives a bald neuroscientist a serious masculinity boost to have a fierce bitch like myself on his jock. Later, this so-called "friend" of mine who kept pestering me not to give up on Mike Sucks because she thought we'd make a cute couple was dogsitting for me and actually hooked up with him in my fucking apartment! Duplicitous bitch. When Mike Sucks graduated and convinced her to drop out of Columbia and move to California with him, I was not sorry to see them go. They are two assholes who assuredly deserve each other.
A little while after picking my bruised ego up after the Mike Sucks debacle, I decided to give pursuit of a grad student another shot. This dude who was famous for being a huge asshole (he actually lists "judging people" as an "interest" on his Friendster page) e-mailed me to say he'd discovered my blog and was in awe of me, as people tend to be once they get hit with a blast of hot Razzification. A bit of e-mail witty banter ensued, and I decided that he was sweating me and considered the possibility of fucking him. I tried to be a little smoother with him than I was with Mike Sucks, and invited him to go "drink scotch and make fun of people with me." Unfortunately, he declined on the grounds that I "intimidate the shit out of" him. Thanks, Strong Personality, for cockblocking me. Then this dude got together with another grad student, who is really a very nice girl, and who he has been with for a year now. I wish them well, but nonetheless am annoyed that I failed yet again to bag a grad student.
The closest I ever got was last summer at the party for the virology floor in our building. It got late, and the party dwindled to me and J-Sexy and two girls from the lab down the hall. One of these girls confessed that she had a crush on me, and the next thing I knew, we were doing enough hooking up to make J-Sexy say the next day, "You were practicolly going down on each other!" That wasn't true, but we were making out and groping each other's breasts. We probably would have progressed to hot lezzie crotch action if she didn't have a boyfriend who disapproved of her getting some pussy on the side. Oh well. I told her that anytime she wants to take a ride on my strap-on to holler at me, but I'm not holding my breath since she and the boyfriend seem pretty serious.
I was beginning to think that the ill-fated sex I almost had with the Ja-Fake-An who doesn't eat pussy during my recruiting weekend had cursed me with bad mojo and that I was destined never to score with any grad student honeys. I felt it would be a dreadful blow to my reputation as a player exuding mackadelic nightspot realness to never give so much as a lousy BJ to one of these fucking science nerds. By all rights, they should be beating my door down. I have big tits, I might not be a supermodel but I'm not ugly, I'm smart and funny, and I totally fuck on the first date. What's the problem, geeks?
Lucky for me, on Friday a posse of grad students happened to randomly stroll drunkenly into the bar where J-Sexy and I were kicking it with a couple other friends. I'd been drinking scotch and was feeling invincible, so I started chatting up this first year. And my mojo has adjusted itself, because this 23-year-old honey didn't stand a chance against a voracious cougar full of Johnnie Walker like myself. I totally made him take me to his crib and do me like I wanted to be done. YES! VICTORY IS MINE! I saw, I conquered, and I came. I can graduate now with a true sense of accomplishment, and not a worry in the world about not being able to score a science nerd. My slut credentials are still valid, I'm awesome, and all is right in Razzyville. I RULE!
Labels: grad school bullshit, overcompensation, Razzification, sex, sluts
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i shudder to think about what you keep private.
that said, keep it up. stumbled on this and love it.
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that said, keep it up. stumbled on this and love it.
# posted by 
: 11/07/2007 11:01 PM
: 11/07/2007 11:01 PM Links to this post:
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