ma.tric.u.latevb -lated; -lating: to enroll as a member of a body and esp. of a college or university - matriculation /n

The university that I’m planning on attending for fall Semester is hot on the ass of CeCe. Transcripts have been sent in up till now (My Summer classes will end a week before Fall Semester starts so I’ll carry those with me into the administrative office for my first counseling session) and on every single solitary piece of paper I get from these people is the word Matriculation. It sounds painful. It sounds like something you catch after a “everything stays in Vegas” weekend. I had to do this tour earlier before I could even start looking at the Fall Class Schedule. A virtual tour (a 3 hour tour… a 3 hour tour…). Complete with really cheesy video of students asking questions like…”I’m going to be working part time at starbucks - and I’m really worried if I’ll have time to study with all the classes I’m taking. Where can I go to speak with someone who could help me?” I’m not even kidding. Then you have to take your little mouse and point it in the direction the student should go - and then “click” on the correct building. I wanted to see if the college had a sense of humor equivalent to my somewhat dry and witty one, so I clicked on the cafeteria. I figured the dude should just go get a cup of Joe and think about his life for a bit instead of speaking to a counselor who would only tell him to take out another 50 loans to pay for his education so he could stop working for the pusher of crack we know here in Southern Cali as StarBUCKS. Or maybe he could take a walk over to the Restroom Facilities, to the very last stall on the left with the nice little glory hole - and suck a few for 10 minutes - making the equivalent of what he might make working at the fine establishment for 3 hours. But I didn’t. I had to matriculate as fast as possible.

I have a tentative schedule in mind. Will be taking 5 classes - and one of them is Bowling - so I think that’s really only technically four classes, right? Japanese (though I may change that to Spanish cuz Japanese is hella hard…as you well know, DOC!), Intro to Screen Writing, Honors Composition (English class…notice the HONORS part of that class. Yeah. They accepted me into the honors program…woot woo for CeCe!), Intro To Algebra (sobs), and what was the other class? (counting)… oh wait. That’s it. 5. Ok. So now all I have to do is wait for a little email to tell me I can register and that I’ll be accepted in as a sophmore - which should be easy because I have enough credits and have 2 letters of recommendation from the profs from the classes I took this past year along with a very very sweet letter from a past teacher saying how absolutely brilliant I am (I’m so kidding). I should be a “shoe in”. So to speak. In non NF language.

Ya know … back to that boy who was wondering about study time with his job and the little glory hole in the back stall of the men’s latrine… Why does gay sex intrigue so many women? I’m not saying ALL women - I’m just saying MANY women. Like this woma(e)n.

A few months ago I went to this really great gay club with a good friend of mine. I should really call her up one of these days to see if we can go back - I’m in the mood to stare. The club wasn’t in West Hollywood - as many might imagine - but in this really small kinda college-y city West of there, I think. I’m directionally impaired. The club looked like any other 18 and over club - and the parking lot was packed. I could feel the music through my feet as we walked into the club. And the men that were walking INTO that club were F-I-N-E - bold face - HUGE FONT Fine! I mean Gawgous! My friend kept elbowing me, too, because I was practically drooling from so much lucious eye food. Yes. I said it - EYE FOOD - because candy is a snack - but these boys were MEALS! So we get into the club - and make our way with great lovely green stamps on our hands that just screamed NOT LEGAL TO DRINK - and shoved our way politely to the dance floor. And there they were. All these wonderful specimens - all this eye food - dancing with other eye foods. I couldn’t believe it. My friend knew, of course, but I had no idea! And as politically incorrect as this may sound - these morsels of food did not look at all like the types of food that would be dancing with - well - other food. Which just made it all the hotter. My friend explained that this club was infamous for these type of men that did not look the part - most of which had girlfriends at home or wives or whatever - and were at the clubs Saturday nite shaking their groove thangs. There is something absolutely fantastic about gay sex - but even more so orgasmic when the gay sex is between men who don’t appear (and please forgive me for this… ) GAY. I know there is a word for that - and it’s not “butch” - but I can’t for the life of me remember…

So anyways - yeah. The student I helped MATRICULATE looks to be that type - the type you’d never in a million years take for the type that would be in the stall on his knees earning some money for some books. So my little 2 n’s - if you are reading this - THIS will be coming up again very very soon! *wink wink nudge nudge* And for those who are reading over this entry as fast as your little eyes can all the while shaking your head like “nah uh - not for me, dawg!” - I’ll give you this: I, being the now matriculated student and soon to be student in HONORS English can very easily switch around a few things (like the sex of the student for one) and give you a whole ‘nother type of fantasy. Don’t be scared. And judging from the post below and my extreme longing to be out on my own, I probably could be desperate enough (not really - but it’s YOUR fantasy! lol) to visit that little stall in the Men’s Restroom and …

I’ll be up pretty late tonight - I slept like a log after the gym earlier - and have more energy then I know what to do with. Of course I could prepare for my Government class on Tuesday but that would be just too… um. That wouldn’t be me. Wait. I’m responsible and matriculated…

Poli Sci here I come!