Trigger Warning
Human Entertainment, Humour, Prose, contributed by esteemed fictionist Janice Dingalingus, whose new novella ‘PMS Stands for Psychotic Mood Swings’ will be published on National Menstruation Awareness and Appreciation Day. If you pre-order, you’ll receive a how-to manual on how to offer menstrual blood to neo-pagan gods!
Men never hit on me until college. And they always asked the same questions like where I was from and did I speak the language and if I ever went “home.”
Then there was the usual comments like how they didn’t expect someone like me to say I’m from Lawn Guyland [sic {translation: Long Island}] or to call them a thirstbucket when they ask for my phone number. Or worse: my digits.
So I asked one of my blancita friends why men were suddenly grilling me at every dorm party. She gave me a look as if to say am I for real (she’s from the Hills, but has a killer GPA).
“You look like a young Lucy Liu,” she tells me.
“That chick from Ally McBeal?”
“Yeah.”
“Because all Asian chicks look the same, gotcha.”
“Ulgh, Tia. Racial card much?”
“You’re the one who provoked [sic {correction: invoked}] it. Using one particular standard of Asian feminine beauty and applying it to the entire spectrum of Asian feminine beauty. And you couldn’t even name someone more contemporary, lol [sic!].”
“Okay, Tia, obviously you’ve been taking Racial Sex Studies or some shit. This is why I hate the humanities.”
I like watching chem majors squirm. It validates me as a lit major.
“Check your fucking privilege, Tiffany. You’re not just white, you’re blonde.”
“Look, forget I said anything. If you’re offended, I’m sorry. Jeez, it’s not like I’d be triggered if you said I looked like Cara Delavigne.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, whatever you do.”
“I’m going to the fucking library.”
Tiffany grabs a chem textbook and compo book and leaves.
Once she’s gone I sigh to no one and roll a joint even though its still bright and I had kinda vowed not to do weed till late in the pm.
I lie on the futon watching ganja-smoke rise above my head in swirls like cirri and think stupid thoughts like how American men who are sexy, smart, and sophisticated are white protestants w/ German/Dutch heritage of medium to extra medium penis size [optimal] and that the only men who can compete w/ them are Asians, to whom I’m simply not attracted and not because of the small dick thing I just think they all look like serial killers, despite the whole Asian thing I got going on myself, but it could have something to do with growing up watching Cary Grant and Clark Gable w/ daddy [shut up, Freudians!], and I’m not even sure if they’re Protestant Germanics w/ med 2 xtra-med penis size; an antifeminist would call me a misandrist. But whatevs :D
Thanks for reading. Please follow me, or don’t, it’s all up to you. If you’d like to read more of my fiction, you can do so here, or check out some criticism on Shakespeare here, and over yonder there’s a really, really disgusting and disturbing horror story I wrote for Halloween.
