I swear it's everywhere, it's everything

What's better than two-and-a-half Geminis having a 90's dance party after midnight? Nothing. What's better than one-and-a-half Geminis plastered dancing, with one fuzzy Gemini shaking her apparently God-like ass? Nothing even more. Hofstra is good for parties because we drink here and can just hang out in my room. And Allie has an i-home (and was out to the bar), and Andrew has decent dance music--and Brittany, Andrew and I are awesomely fun dancers--so we make a party. Yeah, the alcohol helped Britt and Andrew be hilarious while dancing, and my wine just made me giggle at them. All in all, it was a successful night of good, clean, sweaty fun. And no one chipped their teeth on the glass bottles while dancing either.

I'm eating some food before I head over to the gym. Lately I only have time for the gym on weekends, so I tend to over exert myself. I run lots and tons and I lift and pull weight with a bunch of sweaty, muscular guys who think that they're the shit. I swear the weight room is like a gay bar with straight men in it. I say this because it's crowded with sweaty, in-shape men, accompanied with dance music blasting in the background. Now, I know this does not constitute for a gay bar per se, but some straight guys go to gay bars knowing that straight chicks will be there to have a good time. When I enter this perspiring pit of doom, all eyes immediately lock on me (and/or my chest) and all the guys working out raise their noses to the air and take a whiff of my pheremones. I know I smell biologically delicious after running two miles and doing a half-hour on the elliptical--and they want my body to dump their sperm in so they can have babies with me. But it's like a gay bar because all of these straight guys, surrounded by men whom they are not attracted to (as far as they let on), are desperate for a single gal to hit on or else the adventure to the bar was a complete waste. And I am this girl. The girl of desperation (my mom is proud). I am a piece of meat to these bro dudes in the weight room because I am the only one with a vagina and C cups (some of them have VERY muscular A's). So I walk in feeling gross from running so much and all I want to do is lift some shit and feel like the shit and I get sniffed and gawked at. At least ten guys stare at my ass as I walk past them and, while it's flattering, I'm just there to work out and not be checked out. It makes me feel self-concious because they linger around me, drooling, watching me work out from the corner of their eyeball. I guess that part is like being the gazelle in the watering hole while the lions make a plan of attack in the distance. I know some of them want to tell me how to use the machine, some just want a quick glance and I know some of them snap out of their gay bar/watering hole mode because they have girlfriends, are gay, or know that they'd never go for me outside of the weight room. So yeah, the weight room is increasingly awkward for me, and yeah it's fun to be their wish for at least ten minutes, but I don't appreciate being 'that' girl. It ain't ma thang. Plus, most of the guys who inhabit the weight room don't look and/or smell good no matter how much their breasts flex.