In Their Shoes: Disney/Star Wars Loving Queer who Needs a Beer
When people are in my presence, it is obvious they are intimidated. I mean what’s not to be jealous of? I’m single, slightly overweight, I’m an impeccable dresser with my collection of nostalgic tee shirts and sweatshirts, and the best part is I’m an upperclassman who lives at the wondrous 55th. Yes, my life is quite the glamorous one, about as glamorous as Kim Kardashian’s as of October31st.
It takes a lot to piss me off , but there are about Sweet 16 specific types of people who do truly piss me off. These are the people I truly would punch in the face if I had a chance to without getting arrested:
1. People Who Don’t Drink.
2. Bitches who complain about their lives when they don’t realize that somewhere a woman has just stepped into a pile of dog-shit with her new $700 Jimmy Choos.
3. Men who carry Louis Vuitton bags.
4. Girls who think they’re fat and they’re a size 6.
5. People who assume I watch Glee.
6. Misleading Metro-Sexuals.
7. Gingers who spray-tan.
8. 80% of the student body of Marymount Manhattan College.
9. Anybody of any age that wears Abercrombie & Fitch by choice after the year 2007.
10. People Who Don’t Drink.
11. Morons who think you have an extra chromosome if you are a homosexual.
12. David Hasselhoff.
13. Avatar Fans.
14. Tourists.
15. The entire state of Vermont.
16. People who don’t listen to my radio show “The Chris Calfa Show” Tues. @2 on WMMC Griffin Radio.
Yeah I have a radio show, but you all probably don’t know that because
you’re too busy watching The “Real” Housewives on Hulu. I don’t know what has happened to our generation, but let’s just say when I was in Pre-School, I went to one called something like “St. Judes School For Special Children” or some shit like that, and now I feel like a 50 year old scholar compared to some of these people. Like this one girl I met freshman year, let’s just call her “Bananas”.
Well, I had some friends in Bananas dorm room at 55th freshman year, and this one night we were staying true to the Long Islanders we were tossing back booze, and Bananas already struck me as a scholarly piece of work with her vague spacey expressions and her excitement from meeting my good Asian lesbian friend, wondering just how sex works for her. She believed if she covered her face in a picture, nobody would recognize her. Bitch, that’s what tagging is for. Bananas was a piece.
Well anyway, as for me, some of my roommates and my friends who resided with Bananas were drinking in her kitchen one night. Bananas made this lovely statement. “I don’t drink alcohol, I don’t smoke or do any drugs.” I couldn’t help but to glare in confusion, she continued, “I just have a lot of sex.” I was so sure I found a diamond in the rough. “Why?” I asked. Bananas responded, “Well you gotta have sex!” True, but without alcohol it’s not as fun. I being the religiously ignorant person I am, at the time the vodka was telling me it was a good reasonable question from what I learned on Family Guy. I asked her “Are you a Mormon?” she quickly responded to my idiotic question in a serious tone “I’m not blonde.” At this point my roommate, Danny, and I fell to the floor and I needed CPR for how much I was laughing. I was like Osama Bin Laden but instead of water, I was drowning in my own laughter.
Confused by our honest opinions of her brain, Bananas said “I thought that Mormons are the ones with blonde hair and blue eyes, right?” While I cackled similar to Ed from The Lion King, I informed her that that’s Aryan. Believing she was right, Bananas stated that Aryans were people from Asia. And at this point, I was crying more than when Marissa Cooper died.
I really had such high hopes coming to college about being not one of the smarter people, I mean I’m still not but compared to Bananas I was fuckin’ Mark Zuckerberg. But I still make choices that put me on a scale of genius with Snooki, Paris Hilton, and the people on the subway that go car to car asking for spare change. Like just recently, I got my first spray tan. And it was partially not by choice. See one of my best friends here, let’s call him Carrot. Now Carrot believes the best looking people are blonde with tan skin, which is what he strives for. But unfortunately for him he is as ginger as Deborah Messing and Ron Weasley’s love child. So he does the nasty and idiotic process of spray tanning to make his pale skin to perfectly match his orange hair. So you can imagine why we call him Carrot. Well he works at Beach Bum and he convinced me to get my first spray tan ever, which being Sicilian I should be against. But He got me with the “whiter teeth” bargain so foolishly went with it. But of course I don’t want to pay $75 to be 5 shades darker, and he was training so much like an 8th grader trying to get with a 7th grader, I was his practice dummy.
I wore orange underwear so I wouldn’t worry about tinted tighty whiteys. A spray tan feels like being blown by a mist of cool brown liquid…I need better phrasing. Little would I know that I had to get 2 layers of spray. His teacher did one layer and he did the next. Besides some darker spots I thought I looked dark the next day, like a beautiful gypsy. But I didn’t listen when they briefly mentioned showering 6-8 hours after the spray. Let’s just say when I woke up the next morning I was ready to go work at Willy Wonka’s factory. The tan hasn’t gone away fully and I swear to revenge on Carrot. Carrot, you better watch your fuckin’ back.
If you have read up to this point, good for you. If you enjoyed my wonderful Fairy Tales, you can hear more crap like this on “The Chris Calfa Show” on WMMC Griffin Radio, Tuesdays at 2 and check out the Facebook page Chris Calfa, no not Khris Kalfa, only like that if you want my rants on Kristen Stewart being Snow White and pics of me with Joseph Gordon Levitt. If you didn’t enjoy this you can go fuck yourself <3.
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