This past morning, at 9:00 a.m. , I went to eat breakfast at IHOP with my sister Denice and friends, Elizabeth and Danny. Topic at today's breakfast table: college decisions. After weeks of continuous deliberation, both are still quite confused as to which college they want to attend. Elizabeth, deciding between Harvard and Princeton, apparently can't make up her mind but I think that she really DOES know but is just trying to make the process more difficult and stressful for herself. If you're reading this, Elizabeth, I am joking! I decided that my attempts to try to influence your decision are futile and only you can know what's best for you. I know you'll make the right decision, whatever it may be. As for Danny, he is still deciding between Rice and UPenn...he was apparently suppose to make a decision by the afternoon but I for some reason doubt that happened. I'm gonna be excited when both of them make up their freakishly indecisive minds!
During mariachi, since our directors Hernandez and Marroquin weren't present, I spent a good amount of time playing my guitar and singing random pop songs that came to my head. Then, when someone began to jam out to "Billionaire" I immediately had to join in and sing the first verse and chorus obnoxiously since those were the only parts I knew and the rest I just filled in by saying "watermelon" a billion times. I'm just joking about the "watermelon" part but apparently it's a word that works to sing when you don't know the lyrics of a song. I highly disagree that its a good alternative to actually learning the lyrics. So then this one guy in marachi (I will not be naming him for his own sake) asked me to go outside the class to practice singing the song and playing it on the guitar with him. Everything was going fine until he HAD to ask "Can I tell you something?" "Sure" I agreed. I was thinking that he was going to tell me something about one of the girls in dance (the dance room is right next door to the mariachi room) because there was this sketchy looking girl that had walked by us at the time that he asked.
"You have a really big ass. I like it...I can't stop looking at it"
I stayed silent while I was mentally vomiting at the fact that this PIG who normally would criticize me and take my guitar to piss me off was telling me this so nonchalantly.
"Can you keep your comments to yourself? That was kinda disrespectful" I uttered in disgust.
"Its a compliment. You should be happy. I bet alot of guys tell you that."
Yes, you're right, I thought to myself...and those guys were pieces of crap like you. The only difference is that I think you're probably the most trashy one.
"You're making me feel uncomfortable...can you stop looking at me with those sickening eyes?" I told him this while he stared with his hungry little perverted eyes.
"You also have big t..."
That's it, buddy. You can get your "chinchin" (thank you, Toshi, for teaching me this word) happy by fantasizing about another pair of a#$ and t*%$ cause I'm out. So I left him and his probably already mini boner without saying a word.
I have one question. WHO THE HELL DO THESE PRICKS THINK THEY ARE?
This is directed to the disrespectful guys out there:
I hope your penises shrivel up and get eaten by your dogs!
Particularly irked,
Dina Starr
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