She says; "You look like my brother. Will you have sex with me?"

This first sentence is a metaphor that's really cool. At least it should be; like how about "my life is like the one man in blackface at the National Black Men's Convention; painfully embarrassing, filled with faults, yet somehow amusing". But that's not really good enough, is it?

If I was a bleak Irish dramatist, I could really write a good fucking first few sentences. It would go something like this:

All I know is what I don't know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead. Oh, how we sing the songs of the dead! Rapturous rapture! You be dead, young woman, now remove your underthings and let's get a good look at those dead wobblies.

That's also terrible. Maybe if I was an Atheist I could write a fucking good sentence. I mean, after all, it's only them and nothing else, right? They can focus on writing and not pleasing some unknown quantity from above. Should be gold:

It may be that our role on this planet is not to worship God, but to create him. Create him and give him a silly name like God; what eminent poet thought that masterword up? God? Like kinda "dog" spelled backwards. Why not make a spectacular name? King Thrice The Underdonker. I'd rather pray to that guy then "God".

And lord? LORD? Seriously, this isn't 18th century England and he didn't just kill 2000 natives in India. What if instead of lord we go with "DUDE". "Oh dude, please bless this wine". Isn't Jesus the ultimate DUDE...I mean, check out that hair; Grateful Dead roadie if I've ever seen one.

Yeah, that went kinda all over the place and was ridiculously crap-filled. But good enough to get my prom story started.

I didn't really want to go to the prom. Actually, I really wanted to go to the prom. I'll let you reconcile those two sentences.

I asked a girl named Colleen to go with me; however, I asked her via IM and she thought it was my friend Shvetz fucking with her, so she didn't really answer the question. (Sadly, I later found out she wanted my hot Jewness)...so I was stuck...who to invite?

There was a super-beautiful Korean girl I wanted to take, but I let my friend Freddie convince me to take his girlfriend Ava. Ava was too young to be able to go unescorted (sophomore) and Freddie was already going with a friend.

That night I had a 105 temperature and could barely etch out a few painful slow dances. I did manage to rent a tux though, so at least I looked snazzy, or at least as snazzy as I could look with long hair parted in the middle and "blond highlights". I'm still scarred for life.

Anyway, the night ended at Ava's house. Freddie went to bed and I slept in a sleeping bag next to him. Within ten minutes of me lying down, Ava snuck in and I heard various sucking and groaning sounds, so I knew I needed to leave the room. This is a funny happening, because it grants me the right to tell people "my prom date was hooking up with my best friend while I was trying to sleep at the other side of the room", which is a true statement and gets a lot of sympathy smiles from the opposite sex.

So I ran downstairs to Ava's basement where there were some crazy drinking games going on. As I walk down the steps, I see Emiko, my high school's resident cute Japanese girl (think Cibo Matto), she's running up the stairs screaming "my tummy's on fire!!! my tummy's on fire!!!"

When I get down, I see my friend Alex, who is a big oaf/captain of the football team. His date, Eileen, is a 16 year old sex pot who's well known as the type of girl who will have sex with you provided you ask her nicely. Well, Alex had obviously tried to ask her nicely and that hadn't worked, so he was on to the next logical step; try to get her as drunk as possible.

They were playing a game of "who could drink more shots"...keep in mind Alex weighed 250 lbs and Eileen, maybe 115. Needless to say, she was holding her own, but extremely drunk.

When I came down (pale and sweaty, with a 105 degree temperature) she immediately sits next to me. I had just written and directed a play, and I guess she was concerned:

Eileen: I'm just another character in your play, aren't I?
Me: What?
Eileen: You're just going to make me another character in a play....you're a fucking asshole for doing that.
Me: I won't make you a character.
Eileen (super happy): Really?
Me: I promise!

Eileen then leans into my ear, trying to shield her voice by cupping her mouth with her hand. Unfortunately, she used the wrong hand and everyone could hear what she was saying.

Eileen: Alex thinks she's going to fuck me, but it'll never happen; he reminds me of my brother.
She puts her hand ON MY CROTCH and looks directly into my eyes.
Eileen: You remind me of my brother; have sex with me. Make me into one of your characters; have sex with me!

Now, I've had sex in situations I probably shouldn't have; pity sex, hate sex, bathroom sex, but I wasn't about to put a notch on the old "she wants to have sex with her brother through me" belt.

I excused myself and ran upstairs, where Freddie and Ava were still going at it. I hopped in my sleeping bag and put my CD player on and turned up David Bowie. Ahhh...David Bowie...always there to ease the pain.

Anyway, there was another time that I almost hooked up with Eileen. I had a New Years party in 2000 that I invited her to. My thought was; well, she wanted to hook up with me, so if we can just remove that whole "you remind me of my brother" from her oeuvre, then it would be smooth sailing on vagina island.

Since it was New Years, a party...and I was 19, I drank 2 bottles of champagne, AND 3/4's of a bottle of Jack Daniels. My moment alone with her was after the buzz wore off and just before the violent, tear-filled vomiting began.

Sitting on a couch together alone in a room, she looked at me. She began to talk about how people misunderstood her, how she was really a great person, etc.

I told her she was amazing and had a lot to offer people. It was true; well, partially, as long as amazing=attractive and "a lot to offer people"=sex with various men.

She leaned in to kiss me and all of a sudden my stomach felt like it had been squatted by three homeless men on a "garbage only" diet. I kissed her forehead and ran to the bathroom.

I vomited and laid on the floor for 45 minutes. By the time I got back, she had passed out on the couch. Oh well.

The highlight of that night was walking through Central Park, pantsless, but that's another story for another blog entry.

I guess the moral of the story is that I might be sexually attractive to weirdos...super attractive weirdos, but weirdos nonetheless. Of course, I'm also weird, so I blow it by drinking too much or crying during sex...or drinking too much while crying during sex. Either way, it's a unsatisfied-a-thon!!