Of White Trash and Women

Last night was the official first party in my new apartment. Members of the Theatre Department showed up dressed as white trash, the scum of the earth. We put on "Pink Flamingos" as the guests arrived and served Pabst Blue Ribbon and other disgusting beers.

Later, I spent alone time with a woman for the first time in I-don't-know-when. It was interesting and fascinating--I knew I was sort of turned on, but also insanely curious about the anatomy of a woman that I'd previously left unexplored. It was like trying a new ethnic food almost. I had a good time, and now I am certainly positive that I'm a hundred percent homosexual.

I woke up around two this afternoon to the sound of my phone ringing, I picked up and saw it was my father's number. "I just came home," he told me, "to find that your mother has moved out."

She apparently bought a house two months ago that is a couple streets over and never told anyone.

Despite my ability to see this coming from a mile away, my heart still kind of sank.