The three times you can sleep with a college freshman:

1) When you're a high school senior.
2) When you're a college freshman.
3) When you're tenured.

Chapped.

My lips have been chapped this week, so I've been bitching, since I can't remember the last time they were chapped and it just annoys the fuck out of me. However, like two days ago, for some reason my chic black t-shirt was rubbing my nipples and chafing them and causing them to get hard which made them get chafed even more, so that put my chapped lips in perspective, especially when I took off my t-shirt and my nipples were sore and slightly hard and a bright red like a new sunburn.

Dance Dance Dance!!!: Hold / Harrass / Intimidate.

Two weeks ago at dance my friend who suggested lessons, who had been encouraging me to lead more strongly, was smiling her head off after tangoing with this shrimpy little blonde kid since he knew how to lead. When we danced right after that, she made me keep my frame pretty rigid around her, and it actually bothered me -- she's so small, and to dance properly her upper body really couldn't move the way I had her held, and the whole thing just seemed sexually violent, the way I would turn her that way and this way and it was like she had no life or will of her own.

This week we started waltz and cha-cha. I've always found it cute and not un-hot when older women hit on me, but there's a couple of them in the class that always seek me out to dance, and the firmness with which they grasp me makes me want to take a shower, since you just know they're going back home to think about me and touch themselves ad nauseam.

(It's interesting how dance class has taken me from being an abuser to being sexually harrassed... I feel like I can identify better with the range of human experience now, especially that of women. It's like on the days when I'm not quite hung over to the point where I have a headache, but I'm out of sorts all day, and it's almost like having a period, I imagine.)

I can take dance advice from the female dance instructor, but the male dance instructor I somehow feel competitive with and don't take advice as well from because I am somehow intimidated by him, though last night when everyone was waltzing in pairs he was just sitting back on the long laminate-wood folding table where the stereo equipment is set up, swinging his legs under the table and lip-synching to Sinatra's "Try to Remember" to no one in particular.

Sexual two-fer: Stories.

A friend was saying her friend had a friends-with-benefits arrangement going with a meat carver who lived upstairs from her in her apartment building. I guess the guy used to occasionally tag along to barbecues and bring his knives along.

At the coffee shop Saturday this chunked-up Asian hipster chick was talking loudly about nothing at all, except that she said one interesting thing, that the previous evening she had run into two of her friends on the way to a party and she tried to wheedle an invitation from them, only they were like, "Well, it's actually more of a playful thing for couples..."

Sexual two-fer: Links.

A man who had sex with Larry Craig.

A man who had sex with a bicycle.

(Not the same man.)

Nation of Islam dietary restrictions.

It's interesting -- the Nation of Islam's dietary restrictions included typical southern foods like catfish and crawdads and pork products like hogsfeet and chitlins, since it saw shedding southern black stereotypes as a key to uplift.

Dream: Return.

This afternoon when I was reading 1st Samuel for my Hebrew Bible class I got to thinking about Samuel raising Saul's spirit and then I suddenly remembered another dream I had last night.

Like five years ago a friend of my dad's died in a house fire, and me and my parents were standing in the living room with my dad's friend's family, only it wasn't the living room of their rebuilt house, it had just drywall and a few nondescript chairs and couch or whatever, though at the time I knew it was their house, and my dad's friend walks in with his wife. At first I didn't say anything since I saw him but somehow didn't notice him, and then after a silence everyone started talking calmly. It turns out that instead of going back into the burning house after making it outside -- he actually did this in real life because of confusion from smoke inhalation -- it turns out that he somehow had wandered off and wasn't the same, and had been living in a nearby town for five years and working menial jobs and not really using his name since he didn't really know it or think about it and somehow he never filed taxes and surfaced on anyone's radar or anything. Somehow he had come back to the family, only he really didn't remember anything. I remember he and my dad went to go to the basement and watch football on the rec room tv down there as they used to, and my dad's friend made some joke, only I could tell that his humor wasn't what it was, it was somehow less than it was and had a dull feel to it, and he really didn't know what he used to do, only he was reading cues from the situation and trying to make everyone think that he was this person everyone else was telling him he was. He and my dad went into the basement and I felt dead inside since everything was different.

After that, I don't remember any more of the dream.