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May 07, 2003

Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun

What's this? Two fantabulous**, back to back entries in ONE DAY? That's right, "Somebody" fans! Tonight we're being twice as nice by giving you an extra Diaryland entry--at no extra cost!

But why are we doing this? Is it out of the goodness of our hearts?

Well, partly.

Is it because if you call now, you'll be eligible for our once and a lifetime special gift (void where prohibited)?

No... not especially. The only real reason I've taken the time to write yet another entry (technically my third one today, if you're keeping count), is because I'm currently sitting in Baker labs trying to avoid Mark. Remember him? Tall, obnoxious, geeky guy with huge glasses and feathery blonde hair combed into the shape of the end of a Q-Tip? Yeah, that's it. He's supposed to be calling me to work on astronomy homework, but if I'm not there, he can't possibly talk to me, can he? Good, good, you're catching on. I know this sounds really awful of me, but he annoys me like no one else I know. Wait, scratch that. He annoys me in the same way that Adam Lensenmayer did throughout my junior year in high school, only a lot less smelly. At least Mark knows better than to come to class with last week's beef teriyaki spilled across his polo shirt. And to my knowledge, he's using deordorant... Ooh... I don't think Adam ever thought about investing in a tube of Degree or Old Spice. It might have kept me from having to breathe downwind whenever we did physics labs...

Anyway, he's just plain obnoxious, and since I don't feel like coming out and saying that to his face, I'm avoiding him. Don't think I haven't given him a chance... But our conversations on the way home have led me to believe that any relationship with him isn't going to be like some jet set across western Europe. Most of our conversations are a lot like this:

ME: I won't have time to go out tonight, I've got a lot of work to do. Sometimes I think I'm such a loser, all I ever seem to do is homework and crossword puzzles.

MARK: Oh, believe me. You have more of a life than I do. I spent all of this weekend in front of my computer, coloring in a map for the RPG (role playing game) I'm in.

Not convincing enough? What about this one?

MARK: I finally got a confirmation on my room next year. I'm going to be living in a single.

ME: But won't that be a little lonely, living all by yourself? I mean, as annoying as it is for me to have three other roomates, I don't think I'd like to live all by myself in a single.

MARK: No, not really. I don't go out at all, so it's not like I'm missing anything.

It's just not normal. Aside from all those strange little idiosyncrasies, what really gets me mad is the way he always has to prove that he's right all the time. He's always got someting to top whatever anyone else has already said. It's like he's written some book called "How to Act as Though You Know Everything and Piss Everyone Off in the Process." You see? You see?! That's so much like Adam Lensenmayer, it's ridiculous! If I get any closer to Mark, I might find some hidden teriyaki t-shirts in his closet, mixed in with a hoarde of "Dungeons and Dragons" sets, which is definitely not healthy. It's much better just to sit in Baker and do my pre-lab, wasting the night away on this computer.

Other than avoiding Mark and bombing the exam, today has been a rather uneventful day. This afternoon however, I let Alina in on the long-lost secret of elbow sex.

"Elbow sex?" She squealed. "What the hell is that?"

"Something one of my friends [specifically, Matt] and I made up a while ago. It's like a fetish thing, I guess. Didn't you ever think it was weird that certain people have feet fetishes, or anything like that?"

"Well, I think my dad has really hot feet," Alina commented as we made our way across the sky walk.

"Mmmkay... See, that's just weird." No one should think that anything about their dad is particularly hot, especially his feet, but Alina finds something to like in all men, so she's an exceptional case. "But seriously though, I always thought it was strange that anyone could get turned on by someone's toes. I mean, if you're going to get horny about feet, why not any other weird body parts? That's how me and my friend started thinking about elbow sex."

And it really was like that. Matt and I were sitting in the back of Mr. Hayward's class, talking about nothing in particular, as we used to do. "Why isn't there anything like elbow sex?" I think I asked him. "Other body parts deserve the same amount of respect, too!"

And so it began: in the hallways, at lunch, and during class, Matt and I would rub the points of our elbows together vigorously, practicing the ridiculous fornication known as elbow sex. Of course, in our case, it was interracial elbow sex, but who's keeping tabs on that sort of thing? Sometimes there were elbow orgies, and other times there was oral elbow sex, which involved the licking of someone else's elbow.

It was stupid, it was silly, but it was fun. I don't get too much e-sex nowadays, unless I manage to bump my own elbow against someone else's in the elevator. Does that count as elbow raping or elbow groping? I'm not sure. Anyway, Alina and I had a good laugh about it on the way to the elevator, and I think I saw a professor grimace as he heard us throwing the words "elbow," "sex," and "orgy" around like they were commonplace nouns. Puh-lease. I'm not that foul.

**Why did I just use the word "fantabulous?" I sound like freaking Melissa Rivers; haggling closet celebrities along the red carpet while LIVE! at the Country Music Awards.

"And your dress... A Louis Vitton original? It's just fantabulous!"

Fantabulous. That's me.

posted at 5:59 p.m.

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