Anita 1
"Wait up Anita."
I turn, see Karen, a friend of my older sister. "So, where you headed?"
"SUB (Student Union Building), got an hour between classes, do work while I coffee."
"So Anita, how's that Earthlingology 101 going?"
I grin, "they are sooo nuts."
"So, what did you pick for that term paper?"
I laugh, "took your advice of course. You said he'd spring that silly religion topic. Imagine those crazy superstitious Earthlings! Picked Gur Hasidic Jews in Jerusalem."
Huge smirk, "excellent, I recall telling you I did Doukhobors. Anyone dumb enough to pick a mainline topic, bores him and gets graded down. He gives higher grades for novelty value."
"You going to SUB, Karen?"
"No, turning here, have fun."
As I pay for coffee at the counter, the robot says, "have a good day."
"Actually I have other plans."
Robot laughs, programmed to do so at student jokes.
Picking a vacant table, I spread out a supply of index cards. Each bears a mini topic and I'm trying to arrange the best order to give it flow.
Debbie, from high school days, sits uninvited, leads with, "so, going to the big demonstration this evening?"
"Which one?"
Scornful tone, "oh grow up, the only one that counts, the gay bathhouse."
I know better than to argue with a political zealot, so I smile wanly, "truth is, I'm a little behind in my course work." (Lie: things are going great.)
"What a self-important, self-righteous, selfish pig you are! Can't spare one hour of that precious time for a life and death cause?"
"What is life and death about gaydom, been around for centuries?"
She rolls her eyes, groans aloud, "ok smart ass, tell me, exactly how often do you get laid?"
I blush, "ah well between all the homework they give in Math and Physics and Geology and those business cases in Accounting and this term paper; I ah well that is haven't fit in the time yet."
Her voice rises in volume and pitch, "do you know what those creeps are doing? Pretending to be gay, registering as so, attending the bathhouse once a week to get their cards stamped. And why? So they don't have to bother getting a registered girlfriend."
"You've lost me. I heard men were horn dogs. Why would they do that?"
She stares at me in a sense of surreal disbelief, "so smart ass, musta slept through Sex Ed in high school?"
"Well ah actually not, parents signed the form exempting me."
She groans aloud, "I'm wasting my time on morons like you," gets up and leaves.
Idly I wonder what that was all about, return to work. Soon, I'm done, pleased with how it fits together.
I still have 15 minutes til next class, so I grab the student paper.
And there it is, the headline item. Scientists who claim to have measured the pleasure centers in the brain, electric flow that is, assert that men have five times the electric flow dealing with inflatable dolls than in real sex.
And that's why they feign gaydom. Get that exemption from needing to find a registered girlfriend or, failing that, enrolling in speed dating.
So ah, what do they do in the bathhouse? According to reliable sources (?), only about 1/10 of the men attending are real gays. The rest goof around, read, play computer games til the time is up, get that card punched and vamoose.
Oh yes, these demonstrators plan on sending two loud and clear messages to Parliament. Video cameras must be installed, to sort out the fake from real. And here on in, bathhouses are only open to "genuine" gays.
I shrug, seems so completely far fetched. Yet maybe true, not a lot of girls seem to have boyfriends.
In the end, I opt to attend the Geology Dignity demo. Clearly they are in the right, Geology is short changed in lab facilities, compared to others.
It's a half dozen guys, with nary a cop or student reporter in sight. They're ecstatic to see a first year out there supporting them. The time passes pleasantly as they give me advice on upper year Profs and optional courses.
Next issue of the student paper has 12 pages of coverage of the big bathhouse demo, the thousands of demonstrators, all women. Grim looking siege lines of riot cops, all women also, in formation behind shields.
I shudder, realizing from looking at photos, any tiny spark could have set off something.
I turn, see Karen, a friend of my older sister. "So, where you headed?"
"SUB (Student Union Building), got an hour between classes, do work while I coffee."
"So Anita, how's that Earthlingology 101 going?"
I grin, "they are sooo nuts."
"So, what did you pick for that term paper?"
I laugh, "took your advice of course. You said he'd spring that silly religion topic. Imagine those crazy superstitious Earthlings! Picked Gur Hasidic Jews in Jerusalem."
Huge smirk, "excellent, I recall telling you I did Doukhobors. Anyone dumb enough to pick a mainline topic, bores him and gets graded down. He gives higher grades for novelty value."
"You going to SUB, Karen?"
"No, turning here, have fun."
As I pay for coffee at the counter, the robot says, "have a good day."
"Actually I have other plans."
Robot laughs, programmed to do so at student jokes.
Picking a vacant table, I spread out a supply of index cards. Each bears a mini topic and I'm trying to arrange the best order to give it flow.
Debbie, from high school days, sits uninvited, leads with, "so, going to the big demonstration this evening?"
"Which one?"
Scornful tone, "oh grow up, the only one that counts, the gay bathhouse."
I know better than to argue with a political zealot, so I smile wanly, "truth is, I'm a little behind in my course work." (Lie: things are going great.)
"What a self-important, self-righteous, selfish pig you are! Can't spare one hour of that precious time for a life and death cause?"
"What is life and death about gaydom, been around for centuries?"
She rolls her eyes, groans aloud, "ok smart ass, tell me, exactly how often do you get laid?"
I blush, "ah well between all the homework they give in Math and Physics and Geology and those business cases in Accounting and this term paper; I ah well that is haven't fit in the time yet."
Her voice rises in volume and pitch, "do you know what those creeps are doing? Pretending to be gay, registering as so, attending the bathhouse once a week to get their cards stamped. And why? So they don't have to bother getting a registered girlfriend."
"You've lost me. I heard men were horn dogs. Why would they do that?"
She stares at me in a sense of surreal disbelief, "so smart ass, musta slept through Sex Ed in high school?"
"Well ah actually not, parents signed the form exempting me."
She groans aloud, "I'm wasting my time on morons like you," gets up and leaves.
Idly I wonder what that was all about, return to work. Soon, I'm done, pleased with how it fits together.
I still have 15 minutes til next class, so I grab the student paper.
And there it is, the headline item. Scientists who claim to have measured the pleasure centers in the brain, electric flow that is, assert that men have five times the electric flow dealing with inflatable dolls than in real sex.
And that's why they feign gaydom. Get that exemption from needing to find a registered girlfriend or, failing that, enrolling in speed dating.
So ah, what do they do in the bathhouse? According to reliable sources (?), only about 1/10 of the men attending are real gays. The rest goof around, read, play computer games til the time is up, get that card punched and vamoose.
Oh yes, these demonstrators plan on sending two loud and clear messages to Parliament. Video cameras must be installed, to sort out the fake from real. And here on in, bathhouses are only open to "genuine" gays.
I shrug, seems so completely far fetched. Yet maybe true, not a lot of girls seem to have boyfriends.
In the end, I opt to attend the Geology Dignity demo. Clearly they are in the right, Geology is short changed in lab facilities, compared to others.
It's a half dozen guys, with nary a cop or student reporter in sight. They're ecstatic to see a first year out there supporting them. The time passes pleasantly as they give me advice on upper year Profs and optional courses.
Next issue of the student paper has 12 pages of coverage of the big bathhouse demo, the thousands of demonstrators, all women. Grim looking siege lines of riot cops, all women also, in formation behind shields.
I shudder, realizing from looking at photos, any tiny spark could have set off something.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:03 AM
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