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Kiwi Crocus
04 October 2010 @ 04:52 am
Let's see. Friday. That was interesting.

Got my arse up and over to RISC Global Cafe (you know, that place where I spend half my life and researched/wrote much) of the dissertation I have thus far completed) to meet Eve and Rose. Thoroughly enjoyed the bus ride and walk there in the rain; it was my first time going into Reading centre and brought back memories. As [insert whatever negative adjectives many students use here] as Reading is, I really do love it. Maybe because this strange city-town on this great big (yet incredibly small) planet feels like mine, with history that I brought about for my life.

Eve and Rose were late, of course, which is what gave me the opportunity to think about that. :P At last they arrived and we had our little Women's Campaign meeting. Apparently I had some good ideas despite the nonsensical ill!daemons I had distracting me in my head. Eve stuck pepper up my nose to get me to sneeze; it failed and, surprise surprise, my nose burned. :P Stayed at the Global Cafe for ages waiting for Mark to text me that everyone was headed for the Purple Turtle for Zans' (random non-housemate who has been living in the house much of the summer) last night in Reading. I listened to the music, took in the beautiful fairy lights, thought about winter and wrote Mrs. Cavanagh a letter.

At last walked over to Purple Turtle. By that time Eve and Hayley were there (Eve had gone off to meet Hayley for what was NOT a 'frate' - a friend date). It was a little awkward given that it's pretty obvious H digs E, but E just got out of a long relationship. Mark came 'round and we ranted about the university LGBT Society of the university and how we want to improve it. We all went out back to discuss sex education, octopus sex and how one of Hayley's students believes that God is angry at atheists because God made the Christians and the atheists made dinosaurs, which ate Adam & Eve. Interesting.

I decided to opt out of Facebar (alternative loud club-bar place) given that I didn't think throbbing music would be the best medicine for my illness, especially with Zans and Pyromaniac Matt. Instead I went with Mark to the Wynford (a mainly-gay-man pub). I bought a toffee apple cider which was AH-MAY-ZIIIING. Moving on.

I met lots of gay men. Mark talked politics with one of them. Another one looked at me and was clearly bored. I had at this point resorted to my general coping method: smile sweetly, occasionally nod, gaze up at the ceiling often and zone the frak out. I was introduced to bored!gay, Simon. He took my hand and brought me to the dance floor. The rest of the evening involved full-out crazy-dancing with Simon and another eccentric gay man in a scarf who occasionally joined in, drinking water (cough downing water cough), standing by the bar ignoring politics and watching Simon and Mark flirt.

Oh. A woman also came up to me and was very quick to tell me, "Your hair is beautiful! Oh don't worry, I'm straight. I'm just a hairdresser, and your hair is so pretty." I smiled an inwardly raised an eyebrow (there was totally the assumption that I'm straight, as if hair length and lesbianity must be correlated). She patted my shoulder and asked me if I knew how to curl it. I stared on, contriving 'clueless' despite being rather familiar with the concept of 'curls' given my hair is, in fact, curly. I affirmed that I ordinarily plait my hair after showering, but had been too lazy that day and merely stuffed it in a pony tail. She made me promise three times not to cut it off; I promised. Later I saw her coming out of the toilet crying to her friends about something and gave her a squeeze to her shoulder. I wondered if she wouldn't be better off being a lesbian (too bad she'd have to cut her hair, of course) but then remembered the aggressive drama!dykes who were also in the club shaking each other and growling out various phrases. I steered clear of other females through the evening.

As soon as the woman was gone and I was left waiting for the other toilet, a rather inebriated gay man came out followed by a herd of fond followers. He took my hand and stared at me rather intently, telling me, "You are so very pretty!" He kissed my cheek. I blushed, thanked him and escaped into the thank-goodness-suddenly-free toilet, as I am not at all accustomed to compliments and was thus flummoxed by two from random strangers in one evening. I took in my appearance: sweaty from dancing, hair pulled back in a ridiculous bumpy bun from getting in my way dancing (and also sweaty), smudged makeup. I wondered in what universe that could possibly equate to pretty. Washed my face and headed out for more crazy all-out dancing on stage. I'm pretty sure I used every muscle, because I sure was sore Saturday afternoon.

Mark, Simon and I conversed more. My hip replacement surfaced in conversation. Simon was baffled. "You've got a hip replacement and you dance like that? Well, props to you." A kind bouncer informed us that it was just about time to be heading home so we all grabbed our stuff and walked home together, teasing each other as we went. They told me they were impressed with how much the gay men love me, given they avoid the other (incredibly few) lesbian patrons like the plague, generally. I told them I blame the dimples and the short stature. Simon told me it wasn't fair that I had jiggly bits to aid me in dancing; I conceded that those helped, and somehow endeared me to homosexual men (sense, this world has it...). They called me witty but I argued that according to the evening, I was not: I was pretty, but not gay. (Was a little peeved that everyone kept assuming I was straight; I am kind of a walking rainbow with generally lesbian vibes, but yes my hair does reach my arse...)

Mark and Simon went of to Mark's room to have some good dirty fun. I zonked out in my bed and didn't wake up until 3pm the next day, 11 hours later. Sore all day, didn't accomplish much. Today I have cleaned & hoovered my room and collected myself a bit more. Harry & Sarah dropped by - guess they do want to continue their 'Christian presence' in the house on the occasional Sundays, despite that the house is now 3/7ths gay. Watched 'League Of Their Own' tonight and desperately miss batting/baseball/softball in general. I miss my pre-batting-stance routine, despite that I don't remember what it was - just felt so natural! Gotta get to the cages when I'm back for break. (See - TOTALLY gay in other stereotypical ways! And I had long hair then too. :P)

Jacque and I head out to the co-op tomorrow. I have to buy food, buy lollies, print out Women's Campaign quotes and tape the quotes to lollies. Fresher's Week approaches. At least I've already got Fresher's Flu.

Long live the lurgy!

This post was brought to you by sarcasm, which is a feature apparently enhanced by the presence of gay men. Soon to come: Kiwi's natural summer, from a crazy lesbian naturalist's point of view.
 
 
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