Follow-up on Your Roosters

This Monday (after the last Friday- the Epic Blowout) I saw the Ring Leader again.

He was in the lunch line right behind me.  I see his smug smile from the corner of my eye.  "How's the dick sucking going?" I ask, smiling ear to ear.  "Better now that you're here." He smiles back.  I just chuckle and walk away to sit with my friends.

A couple of days later I see him again in the lunch room.  I'm grabbing soup from the lunchroom to bring upstairs to where I work. He was in the line and as I walk by him, I give him a pat and squeeze on the shoulder, "What's up buddy?" And walk away to my soup.  Shortly he walks over to me and asks, "Am I really your buddy?" "Ha, yeah man." He walks away, "Sweet." 

So we're on speaking terms?  Decent acquaintances?  No idea, but it's so funny how life works with a smile.

Got a Big Schlong? Mine's Bigger.

WARNING: Explicit materials for those under appropriate age of harsh words or wrestlers.  Read with caution and brain cells.

Today was the day, my friends.  Well, remember the gaggle of ass-hats that wouldn't leave me be about my faux hawk?  This ging stepped up to the plate. She won.  

Everything was wonderful about today- save the fact I stilll can't find my wallet.  I woke up happy, showered, threw up the do into it's wonderful ginger wave, slapped on my favourite heels, had coffee- just an all around awesome day.  There was no way anyone or anything could ruin this day.  Not even a gaggle of pea-brained wrestlers. 

I was to have dinner with my queer and everything was ordinary- get some food, get some drank, let's scarf this and bounce.  As I was pouring myself some raspberry tea from the fountain, I heard it- the rooster call.  I look back and there they are, all sitting at the long table exchanging girly giggles and smirks as if I didn't know where it came from.  I look to Queer, "This is the day. One more time and no more."  I smiled. I felt confident. These boys didn't have any idea who they were fooling with.  I had waited for this moment a long time.  I walked confidently towards some fellow RAs that were already seated at a table.  "This time you have backup." Queer reassured me. 

"Ca-caww!" I smiled that Red Menace smile my mother had warned everyone about. Show time.

I whip around to face all of them and slam my food and things at the end of their table.  " Okay, which one of you is doing the damn rooster call?!" My voice, loud, but not yet booming.  "Uhh," one of the ass-hats started, "I think it was someone over there..." he trailed off, gesturing toward the soda machine.  Before he could finish I cut him off and was louder than before.  " No you asshole, I think it was you! all of you! Because you do it every time I wear my hair up and I'm sick of it!! You want a cock then you should go suck one!!"  The bastard closest to me (the Ring Leader, as I refer him as) had the audacity to look me in the eye and say, "Present it."

Wrong move.

" YOU WANT ME TO WHIP OUT MY COCK RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY?!?"
A very soft "oooohh" from the cafeteria.  "Well, I'm out of here!" Said the Ring Leader.  Most of the gaggle left after that. You should have seen their faces.  I gracefully picked up my food, relocated it to the table I was headed, and sat down." The boys around the table I sat at now looked at me dumbfounded.  "Wow Thibby, what was that about?" Dugg asked me.  "I've been wanting to do that for a while now," I said with a smile as tears welled up in my eyes," and now you'll have to excuse me."  I escaped to a side room off the cafeteria to gather myself until the adrenaline cooled.  As I was about to come back to the dinner table, Queer greeted me at the doorway with a hug. "That was awesome, sweetie."  I walked back and sat down to the boys talking, "They totally deserved it." Said Half-ton ( A name given to him by our rugby team.)  "You wanna suck my cock?" We giggled and mocked together.  "Man, when a redhead is mad you know something's going down," said Half-ton. "Yeah, she'll whip out her cock!" said Dugg.  Not even five minutes later, our other friend... we'll call him Simba (because you all know by now I don't ever use real names)- came and sat down. " So I hear there's a story you need to tell me."  I look around the table and everyone is wide-eyed. Talk about a shot heard around the world! "Wow, that happened not even five minutes ago!" said Dugg.  I told him what happened and he smiled with a, "Good for you."  "Who'd you hear it from?" I asked.  "Everyone." Simba said.

Just a couple other friends came up saying that it was awesome, and one guy even said he'd dedicate his status to me.  Haha thanks Cowboy....

"You know big dicks like that don't like being put in their place. It might get worse." Queer warned.  "I know," I smiled, "and this time I'm more than ready for it."

Rugby is for Real Men

Red Baron.  This is the name given to me from the college rugby team I'm on.  I played my first game this past weekend and here's what I have to say about it.

In high school I always wanted to play football but never had the chance. "You're a girl." "You're not tough enough." "I won't allow it." Even when me and a few other brutal gals in the school tried to make a 'Powder Puff' football team, the principal said no because an incident three years prior- uniforms were not provided and the ladies wore baller shorts and one had them pulled off of her to reveal a thong underneath for all faculty and parents to see.

Those comments came from adults but the students in my gym classes had other things to say about me. "THIS IS NOT FOOTBALL!" Said a girl once while playing ultimate frizbee as I nailed her ass to the ground. Another time whilst playing soccer, I knocked the wind out of a gal just by bumping into her. And another accidentally got a boot to the head.... while he was standing. Did I mention he was 6'1 at the time?  Of course my favourite for last, playing capture the flag as a freshman with my youth group and running my youth pastor to the ground to capture the flag he possessed. He was not a small guy. I'm not a total ass by any means of the word, just stronger than what people would give me credit for with all of this aggression and nothing to take it out on.  I just wanted something- anything to show not all gals are defenseless. Not all gals are wimps and need protecting. I also needed something to teach me how to channel the force more specifically.

That brings me to my third year of college- a rugby team. Now, I wasn't stoked at first, seeing as how what I'd heard and witnessed of other teams, all they did was drink in their spare time and they were all a bunch of asshats that had no other friends but themselves because no one wanted to tolerate their hard-headedness.  Then I heard about who was going to be on the team and though, hey, maybe this will be different.... and it is.  I don't know how, but said college I attend has managed to ring in the sweetest most genuine rugby players I've ever met.  I watched their first game up in Montana- a defeat, but they learned a lot considering only a select few had even played before. As I watched I was more fascinated by the second, no time outs, no breaks every time someone hit the ground, pretty much a free for all with a little rules on tackling and such, but it was magic. 

A women's team? Oh yes. That was the first thing that came to mind. If there was that many in high school that had wanted to play footballs, who's to say there wouldn't be as many women here that would want to play a sport we all would be fairly new to?  I asked the captain how he got it started.  He said they weren't even technically a team, just a club.  The school didn't fund them yet, or arrange games for them to be at.   Why the hell not? I wondered.  When I returned to college, I talked to a coworker about a women's team. She was game, noting that she had played rugby a bit in Germany.  We immediately started recruiting.  I think the most we ever got to show was eight or nine... but as the week went on, there were a set four or five.  Not enough to make a team by any means but the few of us still practiced with the guys. 

Tuesday hit and practice was over, "So who is wanting to play for the game this weekend?"  I saw guys all over raising their hands, and Little Tank (her designated rugby name) and I looked around questioningly, wondering if we should raise our hands or if we were even included.  The Vice President looks back at me, "Red Baron, you coming?" "I'd like to go." I say in hopes. "Well alright then, go." A fellow player gives me a high five.  Little Tank raised her hand to go too. 

Friday at five, we met at the back of the field we normally met at.  Our faculty member (a lady friend of one of the players) had gotten a 12-seater from the college and a little funding for gas and a couple hotel rooms.  What a sweatheart. For the 20-somes of us, we split into the van and vehicles and were on our way. Got to our rooms, packed in there as we were, and woke the next morning to get to the field at seven forty five or so.  A bit early we learned... games didn't start until ten. We were misinformed. Nevertheless, started throwing, did warmups, just what we'd do in practice but nothing hardcore before a game. 

They even let me rock the faux hawk.  Amen.

The first game, I was a flagger... or whatever the hell they call it. All I know is that it meant I had to stay parallel with the ball and if it went out of bounds I'd signal which team got it.  That even meant going into enemy territory to be harassed by the jackasses calling my team fags and cheaters and harassing me about the assigned job I had to do.  "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking shit on my team, I'm standing right here." A little snickering, but they backed off.  We lost. But not as badly as the first weekend, so we weren't as down as you'd expect.

Then as another game was happening and we were waiting for our second game, the ref from our game took us aside and gave us some pointers.  We watched the rest of the game, then started getting ready for the final game.  "Whoever did not play last game is starting for this one." Ohhhhh lawrd.  I looked at Little Tank and shook my head.  This was it. Ohh boy. I tried not to get nervous. I'm Thibs, I'm unshakable.  I told myself.  Those that know me know that I tell myself this when I'm nervous.  Snakebites out, ring off, socks on, breathe.  "You feel comfortable being the hooker?" says the President.  "As long as I know what it is." They explain I'm to hook the ball with my feet whilst the team clusterfucks with me for a battle royale. (My interpretation hehe) "Okay." We practice the formation a bit.  It was showtime.  I listened to orders and followed that damn ball wherever it went. Lots of running. Tackling. Even got shouldered to the boob by what appeared to be an Asian/ Filipino mix. It was epic. 

We lost that game too, and if I remember correctly by a smaller dent that the previous game. I wasn't too depressed about it at all. I played damn RUGBY!  The team was super supportive of each other, giving the 'good game' hand slaps and 'you did a good job' gestures.  We had a shit ton of pizza afterwards and cake from one of the guy's anniversaries. His gal was there to bandage the players up.  Adorable. 

This has been quite the post, one of my longest but if you read all the way through thanks. It's been a while but I'll try to stay on it. This is a shout out to my fellow team members for making this sport what I wanted it to be.  Just an odd cluster of people getting together to represent something though that something might be different for everyone.

Morning Person?

I'm never offended to be awaken early, let alone at all. But there are particular moods in which I am terribly tired and if you wake me I can react in one of two ways- so violent you better watch out, (my queer learned this one the hard way) or you will get the most random sayings possible ( in which my asian learned this the humorous way)

I love telling my stories to a crowd and at said college, there is an Open Mic Night that used to happen every Monday or Tuesday night... or something like that.... anywho, at the hall I was in last year, my Queer lived right down the hall and I knew all the ladies in my wing so I had no problem leaving my door unlocked. I passed out hard core one afternoon, skipping dinner and all. Didn't even have time to take off my spike stilettos. Queer comes in to wake me for dinner and I was quite snappy, none of which I remember. He again came some time later trying to wake me for Open Mic Night, knowing how fun it was for me.
A bit later I wake and I see that I am late for Open Mic. I haul ass to the student building it was to take place in. After I get up and tell whatever story was on the mind that night, I go to sit by Queer. He did not look pleased. "Why didn't you wake me for this?" I asked. 
He looked at me like I'd just shat my pants and tried to smear it on the wall. "I DID!"
I looked at him confused. He proceeded to tell me that when he entered my room, first he shook me and I mumbled. Then a little more aggressively and I began shouting profanities at him about how tired I was and how much I was going to stab him with my heel and how much of an ass he was for waking me. The last thing he did was take a picture of my limp body on the bed and splash me with water.

Another time I was awaken by the Asian. You must understand, the semester it happened was a semester of little to no sleep, seeing as how I had schooling all day, theatre by evening, and worked graveyards 10pm-7am.  I usually crashed at his place because he lived in the town I worked and I did not. He tried waking me one afternoon for a class or something of the sort. He tells it that he gently shook me and I rolled over, not opening my eyes, only to whisper, "Asians everywhere....." and rolled over and went back to sleep.
He decided it was cute enough to let me sleep.  I'm guessing it was due to the fact we'd done nothing but watch Japanese movies for days.... other than that, I've no explanation for the comment save the dreams that come with the movies.

Of course, the most recent tale that brings me to why I even wrote about my odd sleeping habits- Again, the Asian and I had passed out.  I guess I was the one that woke this time and tried to wake him up. It's still funny to me because I remember only blips. He says I kissed him and said,
"I love you, even if you hate the fries."
"What?"
"Oh shit! Why am I thinking about work?"
After that last statement, he says I burst out laughing, in the fashion that I do, and laughed myself to sleep only to wake up less than a couple hours later.

Anyone else have odd sleepings and/or wakenings?  Tell me in the comment section!

Take a Lesson

You know what I have genuinely never understood? Those who aren't accepting. Those who genuinely think that because someone that doesn't dress like them, look like them, are interested in the same things are them, and think like them are just other worthless individuals. Those of you reading are probably more open and I'm preaching to a choir. Those who aren't reading probably read the first line, scoffed, and went on with their lives. Here's just a day in what I get havoc for ....

I'm currently an R.A. for a said college in Wyoming. I don't mind sticking up for others and putting others in their place, but this past week when shit is tossed to me, so to speak, I have felt I couldn't use my techniques to make the asses look like idiots because I'm supposed to be some sort of 'better example' to other students.
 I recently have whacked my hair from past shoulder length to a faux hawk.  The longest part just a little past my ears.  Of course the lesbian jokes started and I've always gotten those so I laughed along.

The particular incidences comes from a group of individuals who tend to dress.. oh, for easy visualization's sake, we'll say hickish but without the cowboy hats and their fathers' dirty baseball caps instead. Get the picture? Okay-

Ever since my hawk's first appearance, almost every day in the cafeteria I'd hear it- the rooster call. At first I brushed it off. Not my style of doing things, but as an 'example' or whatever I tried to not let it bother me.  Then again. And again. I started glaring back, hoping they would back down.  Today there were fire drills in all five resident halls of our campus. I found out where the particular group of boys lived.  As I passed they proceeded to rooster call. I glare back. "Ever heard of a flock of seagulls?!" Wow. How original asshat. I felt I couldn't do anything. All of their fellow peers there and all I was dreaming of was how much I wish I wasn't a faculty member at that particular time. It would be so worth it. I turned my back on it. After all halls were cleared, I walked back to my room. At first it was just deep breaths- by the time I hit my door it started- liquid anger. Tears streaming. I couldn't help it. Never in my life had I not stuck up for myself or said anything and I felt like a complete failure.

I called up my boss and demanded we talk immediately. I went to his apartment building and explained to him my predicament. He looked at me and shook his head. "Yes you can." I lit up, curious for further. "As long as there is no violence involved you sure can. You are expected to stand up for yourself."  I was relieved.  My boss had just given me the OKAY to open up a can of whoop-ass with words on some sheltered male trollops who deserve it. They have no idea what's in for them.

I won't approach for no reason. I'll wait. For it to happen again. Because I know it will. I hope it's in the cafeteria. I hope their peers are around. I hope they feel ashamed. I hope they dare try it again or on someone else. I will be there. I will end this. This is not a revenge statement. This is a promise. I promise to be true to myself and allow others to have their own growth as well. No exceptions.  Join me if you will- you see this happening? Say something, if not directly then to someone who isn't afraid. You are doing this? I hope you read this and take it to heart and stop your madness. It even gets to the best of us eventually.

Best wishes to everyone.

Billings doesn't know what to do

Another adventure of Queer and I. We realize how ridiculous we are and we also realize we like it.

Just a Sunday afternoon with nothing in particular planned and a head full of ideas. Queer suggests we go to Billings- the nearest town in Montana, as we live in Wyoming for college if you recall. I was thinking of not going, trying to save some money as a poor college student and what not. Quickly I realized I had nothing else better to do. Why not.

Off we went, singing along to the foreign tunes of which the translations we didn't know, screaming at other cars that passed, and him faking to drive off the road and end my life. There was a super sale in Borders that we knew about- the main goal of the day. We walked in and a worker told us, " This is the last day of the sale, everything is a dollar or less." We exchanged looks and didn't utter a word.We were off on our search for epic books and music. I had eleven dollars worth of both and he had about eighteen dollars worth. Music and books we'd never heard of- just summaries and cover artwork we found interesting. We looked at our receipts to see how much we saved- mine came to $190 or so, and his came to a whopping $299 of savings on books and music. We were satisfied with our findings.  Off to the mall. We were British where ever we went, getting glances and such.

I think I mortified a teen in WetSeal, seeing she was wearing ridiculously short shorts SO short her bright pink pockets were awkwardly longer and poking out of the bottom of her shorts. In my British snootiness, I scoffed at her, "Oh dear, your pockets are longer than your shorts. What is the point of that?" She looks at me confused. "Oh is it weird? Have you never seen that before?" I chuckle, "You can see your bright pink pockets. A little too short for my taste." I turn to the front of the line of which I was about to make my purchases. Queer shakes his head and gives me a glance. "Such an interesting place, America?" He says. To which we begin to talk about how inane American boys especially are in their rudeness. It was epic how quickly she got out of line to go back to shopping until we got out of the store.

I had to giggle. Not because I'm a rude being but because she didn't know what to say or how to argue.

Then we trolled the peoples of JCPenny's, Hot Topic, and Aeropostale. In one of the stores we glanced over, a worker at one of the more feminine places asks me so sweetly, "Are you from London?" "Birmingham." I reply with a smile. She gets a quizzical look, "I have no idea where that is." "Haha very close," I said. "That is so cool!" She exclaims then tells me about the deals in the store.

After who knows how many hours of trolling the innocent people of Montana, we are rather famished. It took us about forty-five minutes of looking for a cheap DINNER chinese buffet, but gave up and settled with Denny's.... The waiter, the people around us.... no one had any idea what was going on. We got jacked up on cup of coffee upon cup of coffee and were hysterical by the time it was time to go home. We were busting a gut from the racial slurs we were dropping - innocent ones, I give you my word on that one- to the baby in the diaper thing that was spidering the windows of the establishment. People and their kids these days.... Also another incident I'm not going to talk about. Either way, we were cutting up left and right, crying so hard until we left.

Oh waiter, you know that syrup cup that you're probably wondering if you even gave to me in the first place? I have it.

Too much laughter for a night I tell ya. Well if there is such a thing anywhozers. Back into Bjorn we ride, off into the evening sky, blaring our music, our ears getting boners just listening to music so pleasing we could probably have died happy at that moment. I'm actually quite worn from the day and would just like to leave the story with this- laugh often and cry from laughter as much as possible. Warning: will need much stupidity.

Thugs, Beads, and Toaster Struddles

This story is about my 13th birthday party. I assure you the title will make sense once you've read it through. My family and I had just moved into this two story house with a basement and had no furniture. Eleven girls were invited over to sleep in our big empty living room floor. Enjoy.

I'd never had a birthday party that I actually remembered before this one. Sure, my mum tells me I had a ton of parties when I was younger, but who remembers those? Memories wasted on the younger I tell ya! Anywhozers, My mum was well prepared- so much little breakfast items it was improbable we'd starve in the morning, she had six or eight pizzas ordered, six large boxes of soda, and a delightful cake. White. Not chocolate. Delicious.

To start out the night, we waited until everyone was there, then we feasted. I think we polished off all the pizza but it was too long ago to remember. Nothing speaks to a crowd of the rowdy like freakin pizza.  After pizza came cake, yadda yadda, fun times. *FAST FORWARD*

My day of celebrated birth is in January, and in the podunk towns of the north, that means snow. Lots of it. So we tried to entertain ourselves in the house as much as possible until we couldn't stand but to go outside anymore. We did dumb things. Fun things. Retarded things. Really, we stacked ourselves into pyramids, made our names on the floor out of our bodies, took pictures of all the shenanigans... it was weird. So much fun.  After a while we moved out to the back room and started to consume all the soda in the house. That's a lot of soda just for twelve girls. We did the "would you rather" games, "truth or dare" games, and the oh so famous "I've never" games. Soda was running low and we were getting cabin fever. Outside we go.

First place of destination- (for the protection of name's sake as I do in every story of mine) Patrick Lampho's house. Ohhhh Patrick. Imagine if you will- about ten'o'clock at night and twelve girls show up at your doorstep because the birthday girl wants to see you. Silly crushes silly crushes. Brown hair, blue eyes... not your classic blue, this crazy electric blue, and a smile that would kill any girl. I was chatting.... not really. More like blushing and begging the gals to shut their coon calls so I could compose myself. A few minutes of that, then the gals were getting antsy. We made a motion to walk back to my house then there were two old guys walking by. To us, the immediate assumption of  'Thug' status considering their clothing and their age. Probably high school guys at the time, but to us they looked years older than what they really were.  The two boldest of the group, (at this time, it was not me if you can imagine) started yelling at them to screw off and started flipping them the bird. This is the part of the party where we run.

Leaving Patrick at the corner of his block, all girls running about four blocks back to my place- thugs following. Two girls hysterically crying in fear. Hehe. Funny. We get back to my place and shut the curtains to the big picture windows- thugs still outside. They proceed to throw snowballs at my huge window. Uh oh. The mother is alerted. "What is going on?" Uhm... nothing. Going upstairs.

We go up to my room, peering down at the guys. They run away. We chilled in my room for a while until someone started looking through my book stash- then found my book of scary stories. Lights out, all but a flashlight. The stories went on until one by one went downstairs into the living room again, bored of stories. We laid out our sleeping bags and pillows to get ready for bed but we were so jacked up on soda and cake there was no way we were going to bed so early..... well, at one in the mornin anyway. We told our own stories about home, families, other birthday parties, and whatever else came to mind.  At one point we got too loud and my mum came into the living room, "Girls please, it's three in the morning, let's simmer down." 

Didn't even realize it was so late. We were up for about another hour, only three of us up the whole night, and by ten, everyone was waken again to eat breakfast.  That was perhaps one of the funnest breakfasts I've ever had. Toaster strudels, waffles, french toast sticks, everything that came in a box. Not my mum's style, but everyone had something they liked best. The parents were to start picking up at noon. Until then, I needed a way to entertain the ladies. Being a southerner, you can bet your ass I had been to Mardi Gras and luckily still had all my bead necklaces from the parades. I did drawings for them- for dice ones, fish ones, sparkly ones, and the traditional round purple, gold, and green. Everyone left with a little something since I didn't have any goodie bags to leave them with.

It was down to the last gal and I, and I walked her home since she lived down the alley from me. We talked about the previous night and giggled about everyone's little secrets. Seriously one of the most memorable birthdays I've ever had.  When the pictures got developed I showed everyone- the greatest and most diverse group of gals ever to hit that small town of havoc.