Theme Song: "Temperature" - Sean Paul
A few days ago, the phantom campus radio show aired in which two female G'burg students gossiped about people on campus, targeting specific people, telling them to just come out of the closet and be who they are. *sigh* Apparently, the girls on the show thought they were being clever by not naming names but when the black population on campus is less than 50, you can tell us apart very easily. "Black guy (23 results)... flamboyant (6 results)... with a perm (1 MATCH FOUND)." They also targeted a friend of mine, Travis.
Luckily, no one heard the radio show, not even my friend who was hurt by the idea of people being pushed out of the closet, maybe scaring them even further into the closet. All Deb knows is that Black people were calling her ALL NIGHT LONG:
I am not gay! Fuck that bitch!
HATE CRIME! HATE CRIME!
We gon' march! We gon' wield torches!
It is ON, yo!!
Burn, Baby, BURRRRNNN!!!!
(Debra's phone explodes)
Although word has spread (mainly among the minorities on campus), there are no recordings or transcripts of this alledged radio show. Right now, it's just a he-said she-said with no concrete evidence. And even though I have my torch ready, Dean Curry wants everybody to keep this on the down low, especially since the gossiping girls are not only Black, but they're members of the NAACP (one's an officer). And both of the girls are in the fashion show. In fact, Deb thinks there's gonna be a huge riot after the Black Student Union's Fashion Show tonight. OOOooo, all of a sudden, I feel like goin' to a fashion show! Field trip!
I put on my brokeback boots, my serpent sunglasses, and my camera, and I head out! Billy, Katy, Nelly and I show up at the ballroom twenty minutes late (8:20PM) and the show hasn't even started. *shake of head* Ghettto (with a capital G)! Monique, our loveable hostess, explains that she has nothing prepared to say between pauses so she just ad-libs her transitions: "They gave me the number of minutes I'm supposed to talk so that they can tear stuff down and so they stuff ain't hangin' out... but that's a whole lot of talkin'! M'hmmm." She's great.
Monique warns everybody: "If you're underage... If you're really old... If you have heart palpitations... cover ya eyes." Good advice; one of my girls up there is wearing a skirt so short she can't even bend her knees... girl, one more centimeter and I'd see your birth canal. WHEW!!
The fashion show itself... *sigh*... is pretty dull. Besides, with the HOT music and the tight outfits, everyone is payin' more attention to their hot bodies than the clothing. The models are dancing down the runway, bouncing and jiggling the whole way... they're all pretty girls so this isn't a horrible thing at all. The funniest part of the show is when my girl Sharita has to strike a pose with her leg in the air for 2 minutes... LOL, she's a big girl, so I can just feel her pain as she's tryin' to hold that position. But she made it, and I gotta give her props for that.
In the end, nobody died, and sadly, more people were looking at me (the photographer with the cowboy boots) than at the models. After the show, Billy, Katy, Nelly, and I hang out in the Junction, watch some TV and talk about Katy's ex-boyfriend; she asks me to take his place in the house next year. Wow, that'd be funny... all those (5) gay/bi/thai people in the house--whew, I can feel the bitchiness from here!
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