The Delegate Dance

Oh, the sexual scandalocity that tends to take place among young faux political officials.

Model congress dances are insane. Great, but insane.

Here's my theory on model congress dances:

The whole weekend everyone's getting up and debating things and being cool. And that leads to some tension.

And people tend to anticipate sluttiness, and girls claim to dread it and guys have essentially no comment, except perhaps some sort of high five.

Because everyone knows what's going to happen.

And then you throw several hundred model congress charismatic/interesting/repressed people into a room with some darkness and glow sticks and music... and everyone gets a little bolder and there is a standard level of insanity that must be met.

I enjoy it, for the most part, seeing as I always have a good bunch to rescue me if the *predators* get too enthusiastic.

Those predators. Always getting enthusiastic.

And of course I reciprocate the rescue missions when necessary. Although most of the girls can take care of themselves. Anna G tends to tell guys she has a boyfriend... she told me this on the elevator ride up. This would have been good to know beforehand. But I should have come up with it on my own, seeing as I've used that one.

(To be fair, I was fourteen. And didn't know how to reject people)

(To be fair, I still don't)

Real conversation between Guy-I-Was-Dancing-With (GIWDW) and Guy-Cath-Was-Dancing-With (GCWDW)

GCWDW: Hey man

GIWDW: Hey

GCWDW: How's it going?

GIWDW: Pretty good

GCWDW: Yeah

GIWDW: Hey man, is my hair still glowing?

GCWDW: A little.

Anyway, scandalous sexytime.

Speaking of scandalous sexytime, we legalized prostitution this morning. I gave a pro speech. And then they suspended the rules to extend my time. Which always happens to me when I'm saying things that are controversial.

It happened at PMC when I was talking about religion in schools. Which I'm passionate about. I'm not exactly passionate about prostitution, but I figure the bill made sense.

Regardlesssssss, I don't know. Forget that rambling with this funny link.

Love always,
Clara