What’s the deal with getting “checked out”, anyway? I got checked out today, and let me preface this blab by saying that this is a Rare Occurance Indeed, for I am Very Weird Looking. (I think a boyfriend said once, “An acquired taste.” I would have shitkicked him instantly had he not been so good at fixing my car and giving me head. What CAN you do?)

Anywho, I got “checked out” in the most ridiculous fashion today. I was walking on campus past the giant George Washington statue that is supposed to make you feel all reverent or democratic or SOMETHING when these three boys were PIMP-ROLLING by (seriously) and one of the guys says to the other two, “Hey, man, check her out.” “Who?” “Pink,” and nods “subtly” at me, because I have pink hair right now. (Honestly, I guess I like this identifying feature better than a third arm or a hump on my back.)

And they didn’t say it like you would if you were a grocery store manager with too-tight pants and you are talking to a checker: “Fran, check her out, she’s next in line” It wasn’t like, “Whoa, dude, what a freaky-looking person, check her out.” It was like “Check her ooowwww-t,” like I expected Jimmie Walker to show up any minute and start fucking high-fiving them.

The funny part is that I was only about six inches away from them. So I heard the whole thing clear as day, and saw them nodding at me. Isn’t the point of whispering and “checking someone ooowwww-t” that they DON’T KNOW you’re checking them out? You’re BEING SUBTLE, perhaps?

Maybe not, maybe the point is that I should hear them, and scramble off for a freaky menage-a-quartre in a conference room in Kane Hall.

Getting checked out is funny. I wouldn’t call myself flattered; perhaps it would be more like what Mr. Husband calls “being humored.” I don’t know what that means either.

In Other News

I cannot stop listening to the new Emenem album. Seriously. I keep rotating it with a certain Frank Sinatra album just so I can stay sane. You know it’s bad when you accidentally say “Glock” instead of “gun” in front of “normal” people. Eheeheehee. In addition, I also told someone on the bus the other day that “The Emenem Show” is our generation’s “Fear of a Black Planet” with a straight face. Yawhawhawhaw!