veal.

the new phenomenon lately seems to be the correlation between wild animals and their human counterparts. for example:


*cougar
*puma
*bear
*baby cub
*fox


you get the idea.


however, it occurred to me a while back, there really isn't a sufficient animal name for a bro who's significantly your junior. and that, my friends, is how we came up with: veal.


the inception of veal, as you can imagine, has a story behind it.


a group of my college pals and i make an annual trek back to penn state for a brief hiatus from reality to jump down the rabbit hole into full-on college absurdity. itinerary for these weekends is usually as follows:


- drink massive amounts of alcoholic beverages, continuously, throughout the entire 
  weekend
- buy plastic fangs from CVS and accessorize accordingly at the bars
- go to a gay dive bar and get hit on by lesbians
- hitchhike through state college and enjoy a late night meal with the driver
- tailgate
- fail to attend the actual football game due to level of intoxication (and lack of tickets)
- dance parties in inappropriate places
- squeeze 7 gals into one super8 motel room
- eat late night pita pit (sometimes 2x in one night)
- send fexts (a fext, for those who are unaware, is a text message containing a photograph of 
  food, or most often, you eating said food)
- complain about going to indigo, but secretly love it
- take creepy self-timer photos around campus in the dark when no one else is around


again, you get the idea.


this particular trip was even more unique in that we all made a pact to hook up. but not just with any type of bro. but a bro who is still enrolled in college. and alas, one of us succeeded. and that one of us is "jane" (a gal never veals and tells).


in the aforementioned itinerary above, you'll notice a place called indigo. for those who aren't lucky enough to be penn state alum, indigo is a bar downtown that's gone through a couple makeovers. prior to being indigo, it was players nightclub. and none of us one would have ever been caught dead at players. unless we happened to be one of the 5 black people that went to penn state. but, the best thing you could do for a bar in state college, pennsylvania, is change the name and instigate a $1 drink special before midnight, and you have PSU's greek life in its entirety lining up down the block. and as real-world, hard-working women living in some of the most expensive cities in the universe, we jumped at the opportunity for $1 drinks like a puma on her prey. 


needless to say, it didn't take much for all of us to put on some heavy duty booze goggles. with multiple drinks in hand, we made our way to the dance floor to find our victims. ready to uphold our pact.


after a while of getting weird (there may or may not have been some peanuts dancing involved), we realized jane was nowhere to be found. one of the gals said she saw jane getting down on the dance floor. with a *young* lad. a tad worried, but mostly filled with jealousy, we decided to text jane to see where she ran off to. here is the conversation:


us: u should leave now
jane: going to hotel. bring me food.CFO
jane: xo
us: wha
jane: just **** ****
us: pmg to who


totally literate. 


well, here is what really happened:


jane meets veal on the dance floor.
jane dances with veal on the dance floor.
jane makes out with veal on the dance floor.
jane and veal leave indigo.
jane and veal stumble down college ave trying to find a cab.
jane and veal hitchhike at a gas station.
jane and veal end up at the super8 motel on atherton blvd. 
jane and veal... do stuff.
jane makes veal leave.
jane orders pokey sticks from gumbys. and yes, they still had her phone number on file.
happy valley is now happy endings.


oddly enough, jane is actually a vegetarian.

the trifecta of gay.

i'm often approached with questions and concerns around the dating scene in san francisco. it's justifiable, seeing as though i've heard gals outnumber men 2:1 in this city. (i swear i didn't take it upon myself to google that statistic. it just so happens i had a very helpful, and knowledgeable, cab driver the other day). but, apparently, my grandma is aware of this ratio (or she just has an aptitude for mathematics) and makes it a point at least once a month to call me and preach, "too many faygalas in san francisco, michelle. too many faygalas." for those of you who might not have a knack for yiddish, or who might be unfamiliar with harvey milk, san francisco is known for its robust gay population.


many ask if it's challenging to meet straight guys in the city. well, it's clearly not, given the nature of this blog. some folks ask if i've ever been in a situation in which i've hit on, or been hit on, by a man with same sex tendencies. apparently they're under the preconceived notion that every guy you meet out at a bar is gay. and the answer had been no.


...until isaac. 


i have my dear friend sara to thank for the isaac mishap of 2012. don't get me wrong, i appreciate sara's devotion to being an otherwise flawless wing-woman. however, in this case, i could have definitely done without.


also, while we're on the subject, i'd like to stress once again that I LOVE THE GAYS. so much so that my sister and her friends think it necessary to joke about me being a lesbian. sorry to disappoint, but in spite of me bringing my best friend (and soulmate) lisa as my date to more than one wedding and almost every family affair, having an unfeminine-like obsession with sports, hanging out predominantly with dudes, and owning a denim vest as a part of my actual wardrobe, this is in no way the truth. honestly.


so back to isaac. in true mama form, i was drunkity-drunk-drunk-drunk on a friday night on the town. from what i recall, sara approached me. and our conversation went something like this:


sara: omg, michelle, you HAVE to meet isaac!
me: who the fuck is isaac?
sara: this guy i just met. his name is isaac - i think he's a jew!
me: is he tall?
sara: tall enough.
me: fine. send him over. but i think i need another drink.


it was at this point that isaac approached me. what he looked like, i could not tell you. what we spoke about, again, couldn't tell ya. but apparently he was tall enough for me to give him my number. how do i know he gave me my number? because of this text exchange:


isaac (1:27 am): i'll look for you on sunday, smurffette. either way, let's grab drinks or food. talk soon. you're cool :) - isaac
me (3:33 am): right back at ya ;) have s great night


first. let's address my response. a WINKY FACE at 3:30 am? really. i shouldn't be allowed to own a phone. second. i should have known right from the start. golden rule: ALWAYS be skeptical of a text including a smiley. especially from a bro.


for some reason, in spite of my winky face, isaac wanted to take me out for drinks and dinner. the evening of our rendezvous, he texted me:


isaac: on my way. blue sweater and black jacket in case you don't remember exactly what i look like ;-)


again with the smileys. strike 2. although the text was necessary considering the shape i was in the night we met.


me: on my way too! blue floral shirt and black pants in case you need to spot me
isaac: what's your favorite flower? i like gerber daisies.
me: i actually don't know... i'm so bad with stuff like that! we had an orchid once? haha
isaac: alrighty. 


i should have bailed. gerber daisies? is this real? i actually had to google what a gerber daisy looked like. i most definitely couldn't pick one out of a lineup. but, my grandmother's booming voice was echoing in the back of my mind, and i decided to actually show up for the date and give this kid a chance. i mean, hey, it's not his fault i'm florally-retarded.


isaac shows up, clad in his blue sweater and black jacket. he was actually a lot cuter than i had expected, given my history of beer goggle trickery. dinner conversation wasn't terrible, he was actually very smart, and fairly funny. maybe i had it all wrong.


... maybe not.


turns out, the kid's favorite color is purple. and he sang in the choir.


these wouldn't be such terrible attributes had they stood alone. i have a guy friend, v dub, whose favorite color is pink. and my homeboy JP used to sing in the choir (quite talented, too, if you ask me). but purple + choir + gerber daisies? somebody drop this guy off in the castro. on the double.


needless to say, i neglected to call isaac back to follow up on our second date. in spite of his good night make out sesh. talk about throwing you for a loop.


but sorry bro, you're not foolin' anyone.