Having a Penis is Bringing Me Down

Hail, children. Classes have commenced and I am like the neglectful father, allowing my readers to stew in my indifference. But no more; I've missed you, and no amount of women can replace you.

The first class I had this semester was Women's Studies. It has come to my attention that this is the only class I am going to have to put more than a little effort into; with 5 men to about 20 women, 10 of whom appear to be angry lesbian feminists, just doing the work is not going to be enough.

The problem:
According to many feminists I have met, my penis strikes any argument I put forth invalid. Further, it's been brought to my attention on countless occasions that I am a smartass who's not quite sure when to keep his mouth shut. Even though I've been working out a lot so I don't need to keep my mouth shut, that doesn't help in a classroom full of things I can't hit... with my fists.

If only my class was full of this.

My inability to refrain from making a joke once I've seen it will undoubtedly cause my in-class problems. Couple this with the crippling penis, and that's quite a sticky situation. I am going to be repressed in my Women's Studies class. Fortunately, I have spent many hours thinking up solutions to this.

The Solutions:
Plan 1. Seduce everyone. I will enter the classroom in my best Southeast Asian clothing, ensuring I'm wearing a shade of blue somewhere. I will build a foundation with each and every woman in the class, exchange numbers, and be the only man each and every one of them will ever need. I will make offhand comments about how much money I have as I ask them to tell me about themselves. I will show them pictures of my iPod speakers. I will be marriage material. (I should consider using my posh English accent to make this even easier)

I will then arrange a personal meeting with my professor, during which I will make her forget about her husband (if she has one). I will make sure she's aware that I love feminists and feminism and professors.

After I have every female in the classroom in my pocket, I will sustain a system of dating each and every one of them (I will need a lot of money for flowers,dinners, movies, picnics, trips to amusement parks, and chocolate). What this will accomplish is simple, no woman will argue with me in class for fear of ruining our relationship, and my professor will reward me with an A.

OR

Plan 2. Crossdress. I look like a woman in makeup. How I know this is irrelevant. I would have to explain why I was a man last class by complaining about my current identity crisis. I can say I was feeling repressed by men and just wanted a taste of the power. Foolproof, but this plan implies less sex with girls and more sex with men than Plan 1.

OR

Plan 3. Remove my penis. This will ensure my opinions are valid.

While I'm leaning toward the first plan, I haven't come to a final decision yet. The first plan requires a reasonable amount of effort and logistical prowess, but the rewards are substantial. The second plan is easy enough, but lacks the bonuses supplied by the first plan. The third plan is arguably the easiest and instantly overcomes the feminist/man barrier, but I wouldn't have a penis anymore; I like having a penis.

I use it to be this.

And to do this well.

I have some thinking to do. I'd ask for your opinions, readers, but chances are you'll ask me to remove my penis.

Goth Clubs > Other Clubs

I'd like to get one thing out of the way before I go on about the wonders of goth clubs, and that is that I am in no way a goth, nor do I have anything against them (quite the contrary, in fact). I just love the atmosphere and music.

First of all, I'm not a fan of dancing anyplace other than a goth club, because when I dance to notgothmusic, I look like a late-stage parkinson's patient who's about to be beaten to death for looking like a bloody idiot. Here's me at a notgothclub. Ladies?

Wow, I sure am awesome. And in case you're wondering, this disturbingly empty club is located in Kep, Cambodia. These pictures were taken approxmately 10 days ago. Further, that thing on my head which is so flawlessly complimenting my badassery dripping with awesomeness is a Buff. These linfinitely useful head ornaments are a necessity for those who find themselves traveling a lot in extreme weather and for those with beautiful hair that reacts badly when exposed to "dancing". Here, the Buff is making me awesome in the same way that a pirate is awesome. (The second picture is of me doing my impression of BP)

Moving on, and back to what I thought I would write about, the quintessential club is none other than the goth club. I frequent one not too far from my place of residence every Friday. I refuse to name the example of club perfection lest my adoring fans fan overwhelm me there. But I can assure you it is the best.

The music in a goth club is consistently the best dance music in the history of everything. Artists like Wolfsheim, The Cure, Apoptygma Berserk, Covenant, VNV Nation, She Wants Revenge, Skinny Puppy, and more caress your eardrums like only the most expensive Lebanese prostitutes can.

Another reason I love the goth club is that the dancing that goes on within is far superior to the dancing that accompanies hip-hop (looking like an asshole), pop (looking like a shithead), or metal (looking like a shitheaded asshole). Goth dancing is only matched in awesomeness by swing dancing, which I would love to learn how to do without killing myself.

The reason goth dancing is so amazing is because there are no expectations in place. Therefore, in a goth club, you are likely to encounter examples from beautiful to does-he-know-people-can-see-him. And no one will judge you! I typically dance like a fucking legend, but that wasn't so when I first started going there, but the great thing is there will always be someone looking stupider than you, so it doesn't matter. Even better, there really is no expected dress. For example, I never dress as a goth for a night at the club, and neither do many of its patrons.

The last reason I find goth clubs so compelling is the people who frequent them; goths, freaks, normies, old people, unexplainables, thatguys, and oh-my-god-I-love-hers. The goth club I visit weekly is made up of these people. My favorite are the oh-my-god-I-love-hers, obviously. Despite my lack of goth mentality/dress/lifestyle, I find the less severe goth females incredibly compelling, but then I've always been fond of weird, and glasses, for that matter. Reading glasses. Irresistible.

                                                                                                                                                               Dat glass.

Anyway, goth clubs are perfect for people-watching. These venues typically attract a cross-section of society's more interesting people, and I much prefer them over the less unique, regular club population.

If you find yourself wanting to spend an evening out partying and a goth club is within reasonable travel distance, I sincerely urge you to take the plunge. You won't regret it.

All this talk of goth clubs makes me miss home; there are no goth clubs in Cambodia.

A Shot of Anime

I admit that I watch a lot of anime. However, I only watch it when I'm not at the gym watching people work out, so I sometimes fall behind. Here is a short list of some the best anime I have ever seen. I would suggest you watch them if I thought you would listen.

FLCL
Full Metal Panic!
Samurai Champloo
Lucky Star
The Melancholy of Haruhi
Kimi Ga Nomozu Eien
Gurren Laggan
Elfen Lied
Ergo Proxy

Maybe later I'll post something of value.

Small Talk

I suppose I'd better begin by introducing myself. My name is Travis, and I've spent my entire life of 19 years, thus far, living in reasonably exotic locations around the globe. Though originally born in the United States, I consider myself lacking in American...ness. Despite the fact that I live there now for university, I would like nothing more than to get the fuck out to go live in an international community in China or Cambodia, where things happen to be far more acceptable; I lack the degree of racism and cultural intolerance required to fit well in most American/English/French/ (essentially Anglo-Dominated) suburban societies.

At the time of writing, I'm living in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, for a summer job at the American Embassy (I wonder if blogging at work is frowned upon). My job, office-time, anyway, largely consists of sitting in my cubicle desperately searching for amusing things to do on the internet, or swearing at my iphone in unrestrained rage at being unable to pass that one effing level of Angry Birds. Formally, however, I am the dedicated photographer in the office, which grants me access to all embassy trips (per diem, bitches) and events, which I then take a few photos of, express interest in, and then leave early for an essentially free massage, on the beach, at the 5-star hotel I've been put in, for free. This blog will feature numerous stories based on these "work" trips.

But to be frank, I find the political/social aspects of most of these trips fascinating, and all the awesome shit I get to do when I'm not photographing these events is just a great, big, oily, beachey, suntanny, sauna-ey, free gym workouty, cheap girly drinkey, party-all-nighty bonus that happens to come with the territory. I think it goes without saying but I'll say it anyway, my job is awesome. But that doesn't, in any way, mean I won't find something to complain about, just wait and see.

Hobbies include writing, musicing, football (the soccer kind), adventuring, other languages, and spending an inordinate amount of time on my hair which still ends up looking home to several badgers that have just found notices of eviction in the mailbox.

I think that's a sufficient introduction. Maybe next time I'll write something entertaining.

I'm the white guy. The man next to me is a coworker, he also happens to be ultimate.

That big grey thing behind us is the USS Tortuga. I'll be writing a post about that trip shortly, maybe.