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Plus whenever I give him hands, he doesn't pick it up.
Yeah, dude.
I said I'm ignoring you.
Stop ignoring me. Ignoring you.
Hello friends, trace amounts of science.
I see you found you way back here.
And that's wonderful, unless this is the first time you're here.
In which case, you know, this is Red X where we do the thing.
You're like doing things, don't you?
You should stick around.
Mostly we tell stories.
This story is, quote unquote, the one who has it bad,
which I guess is just, you know, a bunch of self-pity.
O.P. says it's only a neckbeard story sort of or a legbeard story sort of.
But I figured I'd give it a chance.
Well, we'll take it for a spin, you know?
So let's open up and see what you do.
Tales of community college.
The one who has it bad.
Part one.
By user dizzy genetic fluid, which I kind of like that name.
Hey Red X, long time viewer.
First time poster here to tell some tales or, I guess,
retelling about my time in community college.
Other tales you told before, huh?
Then I expect them to be polished to a high shine.
No, I don't expect that much at anybody.
And I made this account just so I could vent about something or another
and what better way to use it by vending about people
that I've met in pursuit of higher education.
Also, don't be afraid to be harsh about my writing or about me
because I know I wasn't the best or any better than the people in these tales.
Please excuse my bad grammar. I'm bilingual.
So I can be harsh on the writing, but not the grammar.
I'm just big pedantic. It's fine.
People post things with the expectation that I'm a terrible part.
But as long as we keep the focus where it belongs, I'm good to go.
I'm an amicable guy.
So some of this is going to be a mixture of nice guys,
slash nice girls, which we've been doing a lot lately.
Legs, slash neckbeards, kinda, fat logic,
and I am very bad-ass, and I am very smart.
We visited all of these places before, not very often for the latter two.
But God, do I love me some fat logic?
Anyway, first things first, the cast.
We've got dizzy, hey, that's me!
28-year-old trans, dude.
But at the time of these tales, I hadn't come out yet.
And my backbone, tis but a little worm.
Oh, well, you give it some time.
I was 19 and a halfway starry-eyed and halfway-jaded tale for another time.
Typical introvert who prefers to stay at home and read books about monsters and or gore
or play video games.
19 is a weird time.
I don't think I had much of a spine at 19 either.
What I did have was a lot of bravado.
You just puff yourself up with hot air, like a pufferfish.
The blowfish puffs himself up four, five times larger than normal.
So yes, with our O.P. out of the way, we've got Art Lad as well.
Another 19-year-old dude that was a high school friend
that also wanted to go to the same community college.
And he was the one who introduced me to most of the people in these tales.
Your typical extrovert adopting your lonely introvert named after his love for Art.
Yes, he was like a good egg already, doesn't he?
Quite the lad indeed.
We've also got Queenie, our antagonist of these tales, 20 years of age,
but about 13 in her mentality.
I don't know if she counts as a legbeard, but I do know for a fact that she is a nice girl.
Typical, whoa, it's me whining and nothing is her fault and loves H-A-E-S.
Which as we learn from the Moby-Vixaga means health at every size.
Oh, and every other sentence is always falling fully under fat logic.
She is a big girl if that wasn't clear.
I am actually kind of glad about that.
I like making the big fat girls on the thumbnails.
What? Don't look at me like that.
That chicks need love too.
I meant like, you know, I'm glad for me.
It's terrible for you.
I don't know why you're choosing to live that way, but whatever.
You'll find out when you have a coronary at 35.
Anywho, now for the meat and taters of the story.
What's taters?
Voila Masham, stick them in a stew.
Picture this.
It is fall of 2017.
My first semester in this college just coming out of the student center
with a map of the campus when I hear a familiar voice.
Hey, dizzy!
Over here!
I turned to see my good pal Art Lad waving me over some bench on which he was sitting.
He started attending this campus a semester earlier,
and I was happy to see a familiar face.
So I rushed over to talk.
I don't remember most of it, but it was kind of like,
oh, hey, dude, I didn't know you were going to be here.
How have you been?
What's this campus like?
Art Lad?
I'm good.
Campus is pretty okay, but like too many hills, you know?
If I want to know that you were coming, then I could have been giving you a ride.
Oh, hey, nah, it's fine.
I just bought books, and there's no way that I have money for gas.
Art Lad?
Oh, true, true.
Want to join me for this like club rush thing, though?
It starts in like 10 minutes, or do you have a class or something soon?
I checked my planner to see when my next class was going to start,
and I had like maybe three hours set aside for study time,
but since it was the first day, I had more than enough time to go fuck around.
Yeah, what am I going to do?
Sit there for three hours and study my syllabus?
Hell, yes, I'd like to go do a thing.
First day, new college, you can be anybody you want to be.
May personally, I'm still not completely sure what I want to be,
but I do know what I don't want to be,
and that's a syllabus studyer.
So, yeah.
O.P. says, okay, I have time to join you,
but I don't know if clubs are my thing.
Art Lad?
Oh, come on, dude.
You can't just spend your day studying,
and being locked up in your room, doing nothing.
Joining the club will help you be more open-minded,
and it looks good when you apply for jobs.
Yeah, a little something about myself.
That's the true purpose of it, I think.
It's just to make you seem more like a human.
Which is good, but also kind of the stope being a weird.
Anyway, whatever.
From what I can remember from this conversation,
it was a lot of back and forth, and me saying,
I don't know.
And him trying to convince me to join
or at least view some options when he hit me with.
Art Lad?
Plus, I'm pretty sure there's a gaming club,
and a book club, and maybe there are clubs
that people are trying to get off the ground.
So, come on, dude.
Please, OP.
You had me at gaming and book club.
I was like a good story,
and I thought maybe I could get some good books
and video games to check out.
There's no such thing as good video games these days.
Actually, UFO 50 has been kind of fun.
It's like 50 different minigames.
If you can get over the retro art style,
then there's absolutely something in there for you.
Maybe tens of some things.
There's also Moonstone Island.
It's like a kind of Stardew plus Pokemon
plus Slay the Spire.
And despite how that sounds, it's actually not a complete mess.
See, there's a couple good gaming recommendations for books.
Just pick anything that isn't by Dean Coons.
You guys forgot I hated Dean Coons, right?
Last time I mentioned it was years and years ago,
and I got a lot of comments about it,
but let me elucidate why right now.
He knows how to write a good hook.
He's a hell of a writer,
but there's nothing substantial.
There's no underlying theme to the story.
At least not one that's very consistent outside of, you know,
bad things are scary and bad.
Whatever.
Anyway, my point with the recommendations is
you can get them from anywhere you don't need to go interface with weirdos.
Because there's going to be weirdos at the gaming club, you know?
Book club might be safe, maybe.
But I don't know.
Maybe don't listen to me on this one,
but not a people person.
Artland would have to harass me into it too.
Anyway, with a smile,
Artland takes OP to where all the clubs are setting up.
And I can see a club about pottery,
a club about drama and theater,
a movie club,
an LGBTQ plus club,
and a club with the letters H-A-E-S in Brightass Purple.
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O.P. says,
Hey, art lead.
What is H-A-E-S?
Art lead?
Really?
He spends so much time online and you don't know.
O.P. says,
Bitch, I look for dank memes
and watch funny YouTube videos about cats and boxes
and dogs howling tantrums.
I don't look for whatever the hell H-A-E-S is.
Stayed away from Tumblr.
That's good.
That's when she appeared and holding a box.
I guess they were pins or buttons.
She sent them on the table and then turned to me and said,
Queenie,
It means health at every size.
People like you are the reason I set this club up.
You are here to learn, right?
I guess it's time for you to check your privilege.
Oh God.
It's another Tumblr enough.
Yeah.
I suppose these things do come in waves, don't they?
She said it in a tone that was like she's already mad
and she was eyeing me down.
Again, I hadn't come out of strands yet
and I still look somewhat female,
but that's when art lead stepped up and said,
Hey, Queenie, nice to see you.
You really didn't start a club after all.
Haven't seen you since art one class.
Queenie.
Art lead, I thought you had good friends
and yet I see you with her.
As a woman, she was a little mindful
on what was going on around her.
I think most humans are mindful of what's going on around them.
At least I hope.
Art lead just says,
Oh, Queenie, this is dizzy.
She's one of my friends from high school.
She tends to lock herself away from people
and I wanted to help her open up more.
Opie says, Hey, nice to meet you.
It wasn't my intention to make you upset.
I really didn't know.
This is my first time hearing about it.
And Queenie says, Well, it makes sense.
You haven't heard about it since you're skinny.
About as skinny as those models.
You need to be mindful since we as women
are always under the male gaze
and that pressure to be the perfect size
to be healthy.
Real women have curves.
Yes, curves would imply multiple.
You are one gigantic curve,
similar to a circle.
Opie says, Did this bitch just give me
a backhanded compliment that doubled as a disc?
Now, I know I wasn't skinny.
At the time I could lose some weight,
but she was three inches shorter than me
and she was heavier than me.
I spoke, but as I said before,
my backbone tis butto wham.
And I couldn't really put my foot down.
And I hated confrontation.
So to keep the piece, Opie says,
I'm sorry, I'm not really good
when it comes to these things.
I tend to go with the flow or keep it to myself.
Art lead says, Yeah, she doesn't watch the news a lot.
Anyway, how you been?
Good topic shift.
I'll have her talk about herself.
She'll love that.
Queenie says, Horrible!
It got a room with a lot of space and arm room.
But this man who handles all the club rules
said he can't have snacks in the room
because of needed to keep the room clean.
Like I'm dirty or something.
Also, the campus has janitors.
Yet like you say, I should be a maid or whatever.
You do realize those janitors have a whole school to clean
and they don't want to have to spray for ants
and clean up your sticky little caramel hands.
You know, she loves caramel, don't you?
I mean, everybody likes it, but she loves it.
Anyway.
Opie says, Wait, snacks.
There's a rule about food.
Aren't we adults who should know how to clean up after ourselves?
But I see a lot of other clubs with snacks and crap
handing them out to would-be members, Queenie.
Yeah, they're allowing you for the day,
but I need my freaking snack to hold me off
until I can get a proper meal.
It's called intuitive eating for a reason.
And I need to listen to my body.
What if someone has diabetes
and their blood sugar gets too low?
Yeah, not me, but someone.
It might happen, therefore everyone should get to.
It's called intuitive eating.
It's one of those passive processes
that she does basically all the time.
The intuitive breathing.
Intuitive well-digesting.
Intuitive blood circulation.
Art Lad says, I think we can't have food
because of crumbs or something.
Also, I think a diabetic knows what to do
when their sugars are low.
Indeed.
Have you met my good friend Lavender Beard?
He has an insulin pump strike to his leg.
He's going to have to take his pants off
to show you the pump, but do you want to see the pump?
It doesn't matter if you say yes or no.
He's already taking his pants off.
Dude, put your pants on.
Get up.
Lavender Beard said, I missed that one, dude.
What a throwback.
You guys should go watch that, you know?
Anyway, Queenie says,
of course the man like you wouldn't understand.
But I'll let it slide since your friends
and you're just a man.
Art Lad, thanks, Queenie.
I think.
No, not thanks. Go fuck yourself.
Why do you not want to rock the boat, Art Lad?
Do you really value Queenie's friendship?
She doesn't value yours.
Then Queenie goes off and says,
You two really need to join my club.
I need two more people to make it official
and one of them needs to be another man
because of gender quotas.
Even though the whole goal is for women
to break the glass ceiling.
So, are you in or are you out?
I'm out.
And I'm just going to say it's a good thing
it's a glass ceiling and not a glass floor.
Goodbye forever, Queenie.
And then you just march down the promenade
with your cane and top hat.
The lady's surely coming calling
when I set my pocket watch at twirl.
Art Lad says, you know what?
Why not?
Dizzy and I would like to join the club, you know?
What are friends for?
Yeah, friends, heavy quotation marks around that.
Opie says, huh?
I don't know if I, Queenie.
What are you two good for body positivity?
Do you want to support your fellow woman?
Show the world that our bodies
aren't something for males enjoyment?
I mean, can it be that plus the other thing?
That Art Lad begs Opie.
Come on Opie, please.
He said you'd be open-minded.
Opie, I know.
I just meant that I'm not sure
of joining clubs or my thing.
And Art Lad continues.
Opie, please, it's, it's for a good cause.
Help a friend out.
This is the person that just like talked down to you
a minute ago for being a man.
Are you indebted to her in some way?
Is there something I need to know about here?
I'm not going to start making suppositions about
the alleged abortion, but I don't know.
Maybe Art Lad and Queenie were closer than we thought.
You can't just spend all your time studying doing nothing.
We're in college and we're 19.
It's time to have a little fun and get crazy.
This could be our hippie moment time to shine.
Yeah, that's something that I never wanted.
I don't appreciate you twisting my arm to get into it.
I said I'd come and I would look and I've done looking,
but I'm not ready to commit to anything, okay?
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He said it's time to have a little fun and get crazy.
It's not going to be fun,
and she is not the type of crazy that I'm into.
Oh, he says, during high school,
I've retold stories about my dad being a hippie
and fighting for free love in his home country
and how crazy his time both in school and in college were.
I've also expressed how cool it would be to be a part of that,
but I didn't express how I felt that maybe I wouldn't be up to the task,
and I always wish deep down that I could stand up for myself.
Do it right now. This is the universe testing you.
Is what it is.
Are you going to fight for your right and break the mold?
Probably not. That's why it's serious.
Have Art Lad always supported me on that idea?
And he said,
if there's a moment like that,
he'll help me jump on that chance.
At the time, he did convince me by him saying,
your dad would totally be proud of you if you did it.
You do not f-
Oh, man.
That's low.
That's real fucking low in that.
If I was hippie dad, I wouldn't be proud.
When the counterculture becomes mainstream,
when, you know,
body positivity is the message being pushed by media and such.
You're not being a revolutionary.
You're being a useful idiot.
But okay.
People find meaning in different ways, as I've said.
Your dad totally would have said,
yes, yeah, fuck you, bro.
No longer Art Lad.
He's art nerd.
Get out of my face.
I don't need either of you.
But I don't think OPs is bristly as I am.
OPs says,
I really looked up to my dad and I still do.
So when he said that, I said,
okay, fine.
I'll join since it's a good cause.
I mean, if I'm not too much trouble, Queenie.
And not if you don't check your skinny privilege
and don't let others have bad speak,
they will be fine.
That includes you, Art Lad.
Well, that was bad speak.
It's like a grug post,
but in real life.
OPs come make bad speak to Queenie grug.
Art grug twist OPs arm on Queenie behalf.
Queenie grug is puppet master.
And Art Lad says,
no problem, O Queenie.
We'll be good.
No bad speak.
Right, OPs?
And OPs nods in agreement.
Queenie.
Good.
As club president, my word is law.
And you must follow the club rules.
Understood.
Oh boy.
And this is going to get nasty a bit.
OPs and Art Lad say,
yes, ma'am.
And that's where the first part ends.
Thanks for reading this tale.
And I hope it's good cause I'm not a great storyteller.
But I hope you drink lots of fluids.
Not Mountain Dew.
And I'll see you again in my next tale.
Well, peace and love.
Dizzy out.
Yeah, I like how you cross that mountain Dew.
You can drink Mountain Dew if you want.
I don't think the story was terrible.
It was written strangely in parts,
but my brain was able to easily translate it in a way
that made it come out of my mouth easily.
So I didn't get super frustrated.
So yeah, there was a co here in narrative.
I'm interested to see what the club rules are going to be.
Probably everybody come feed Queenie.
Queenie hungry.
So yeah, well, we'll dive into part two today.
And I don't know if it's just two parts or what.
But I'm looking forward to part three if it exists
at some point in the future.
Don't beat yourself up too much.
I'll pee.
You're doing a great job.
Let's continue on.
Tales of Community College.
The one who has it bad.
Part number two.
I don't quite understand the title yet.
Who is the one that has it bad?
Is it Queenie?
Is it OP?
Maybe it's everybody.
Maybe this title is way deeper than I thought.
Anyway, hey, Red X and the people of Red X Industries.
I'm here back continuing the tale of Queenie.
I found some old journals that I kept.
IE socket cleaning.
And I usually only write when I feel either overwhelmed
or sad or angry or just really stressed.
I still journal as a form of therapy in these journals.
Yeah.
Oof.
I wrote a lot.
And I didn't realize that I missed out on a lot in the last story.
So I'll add more clarity in this one.
Also, my last story was kind of short.
So I'll try to explain things better.
Again, please excuse my poor grammar.
I am bilingual.
The journal thing is like far too relatable, you know?
First, let's remember who's in this tale.
Dizzy Art Lad and Queenie.
Hey, it looks like the descriptions are different.
So I guess I'll read them.
Dizzy is 19 and R-O-P.
Just became Queenie's B-I-N.
I mean, I became a member of a club.
A geeky introvert who's a trans egg not ready to come out just yet.
Art Lad, also 19.
Dense M-F-I-Me.
A good friend from high school.
Yeah.
I liked him at first.
The men all of a sudden.
Why do you behave this way?
Anyway, he loves art.
And he's the one who introduced me to the club president.
Party, hearty, extrovert.
More on that in future tales.
Who adopted the introvert.
Yeah.
And then dragged the introvert into a shit pile.
This is not the type of extrovert you want.
You need to find yourself a party demon wall.
Queenie is the B-I-Me.
Our club president.
Her club is the healthy at every size club.
And just wants to spread body positivity.
20 years of age.
But mentally about 13 stories antagonist.
She's not really that bad in this tale.
But she will be soon.
There are also some minor characters.
Best bro.
19 as well.
Art Lads.
Best friend since first grade.
He's only mentioned in passing.
But he'll appear in future stories.
And Sour Face.
21 years old and a big boy.
One of the members of the club.
And name like that because he's literally the only guy
that I know to have a resting bitch face.
His appearance is brief.
But he does come up at times for a reason.
But spoiler there.
Maybe a neckbeard.
But he doesn't smell bad.
And actually hates facial hair.
He's another person that I got stories about though.
I won't be too quick to judge Sour Face.
I got sort of a resting bitch face myself, you know.
He's sitting around the dinner table just thinking.
A wife is like, what's wrong?
Are you upset?
No.
I'm just thinking about the two-some problem in Python.
And she's like, oh, okay.
Well, great.
I do apologize.
This is just the face that I make when I'm thinking about stuff.
And basically, I'm always thinking about stuff.
I mean, other people do probably think about stuff too.
But I only think about the best stuff.
Whatever.
Now for the meat and taders of this story.
What are taders again?
Voila Masham, stick him in a stew.
Where we last left off is when Art Lad
convinced me to join a type of club that's run by a person
that he met in a classroom over a semester before.
Since I'm new to the campus and he's the only one I knew at the time,
I let myself be bitch-made-ed.
Yeah, a little bit.
But to be perfectly fair, Art Lad
also seemed pretty bitch-made right now.
I know people want to clarify that she is censoring,
so Redx can have YouTube loot.
I do appreciate that.
We can sprinkle in the curse words.
That's fine.
It's also not that hard to just say something slightly different.
What you did.
Okay, anyways.
So I agreed with the power of using my need to make my father proud.
And wanting to recreate something that my father did in his youth.
And I agreed to Queenie's my word is law.
And that is where we'll start our tale.
OP, so what's the rest of the group?
Do you got like a vice president and a treasurer?
Aren't they here to help you out, Queenie?
No, they said they had to go to class right now.
I'm all alone here with no one to help.
Art Lad.
Well, we could help you.
Now since we're part of a club and got some free time,
we could totally help you.
Yeah, totally both of us together.
Actually, I do have a class I forgot.
I'm going to go read my syllabus.
I'll bag it out of this one.
OP says, yeah, okay.
I mean, I literally do have a few hours before my next class.
So just tell me what I have to do here, Queenie.
Well, I still need to bring some pins, pamphlets,
and stickers here, but just one person come with me.
And the other one, stay here and watch over the booth.
Why does it take two people to go get the stuff?
Can I ask him?
Oh, she wants to smush Art Lad in the closet
in multiple senses of that word.
Art Lad says, oh, OP could help you with the pamphlets and stuff.
I could stay here and man the booth.
I remember Queenie's face dropping from hearing Art Lad's idea
like she wanted me to stay and for him to come with her.
In my journal, I noted that Queenie's expression was so noticeable
and yet Art Lad did not pick up on her reaction.
Yeah, that's dudes for you.
Man, we don't know what we did.
So since I still thought of myself as a girl,
I thought I should go with the girl code of me trying to fix the situation
or wingman her.
You are feeding your supposed high school friend
to a hand beast from the depths,
just because you're purportedly the same gender at this time.
Girl code's not a thing.
Bro code's not a thing.
It's just something that people bring up
when they want to manipulate you
into doing the thing that they want to do.
Like if you legitimately wanted the wingman,
or go ahead, you know, maybe they could be real happy together,
but to do it in the name of girl code.
I'm not going to buy that one.
Opie says, are you sure Art Lad?
I just met Queenie and I feel like she's more comfortable
having a familiar face coming along.
Don't you agree?
And Art Lad said, what?
Nah, I'm sure you and Queenie will be fine.
Plus, you hate meeting people alone
and no friends, but you suck at small talk.
Well, I love talking to people
and I love creating new groups to hang out with.
They say if you want to go fast, go alone.
But if you want to go far, go together.
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That's right.
He's the only one actually reasoning this out,
divvying up the jobs by stats and whatnot.
His charisma, obviously, you know, six or seven,
that's the guy you want at the boot.
Trust me.
I hope he says so much for me trying to wingman Queenie.
Speaking of, she was just not okay with me going with her
and really did want art lad to come.
That's when I picked up that Queenie possibly
maybe might have a little bit of a crush on art lad.
No, you don't say.
To give an idea, art lad was quite tall.
He's like six foot three to my five foot eight height
and he's not bad looking either.
At the time, art lad was an art student
and he was getting a degree in art.
His best art pieces are his paintings
that he does during his nature hikes.
He's very active and has a runner's body.
Combine that with him being an extrovert
and he tends to get dates pretty easy.
But they don't last very long.
And at the time, I didn't know why.
So I looked at Queenie and asked,
well, is that okay with you, Queenie?
Are you good with his idea?
Queenie rolls her eyes.
I guess it just don't ruin the display, okay?
I wanted to look nice.
We'll let her look a lot better with me,
standing behind it than you.
Now get to scotchent.
Alright, let's says what?
OP, ruining a display.
Nah, she's studying graphic design.
It's like a Catholic eating meat on a Friday.
I don't know if I'm fully picking up what you're putting down,
but okay, now we know OP does graphic design.
Queenie says, whatever, let's just go.
We only have a couple of hours for this club rush.
So, Queenie and I start heading out to get the rest of the stuff.
When I hear art, let's say,
you better not talk crap about me.
You may not like hanging out with people,
but that doesn't mean you could gossip about him.
OP smile sickly and says, no promises.
It's just girl talk anyway.
As soon as we're out of sight, that's when I look at a very salty Queenie.
Oh, she totally does like art lad.
I may be an introvert, but I'm Mexican, and I love cheese mayo.
And I was feeling like a bit cheese mosa.
Ang babaaan ang cheese mis olit, olit, olit.
Yeah, that's one of the words that the Spanish left behind.
Here in the Philippines.
So, OP says, I may not really know you all that well,
but I do know when someone has a crush on one of my friends.
Come on, you can tell me.
I know he's single.
I'll even put it a good word for you.
Queenie said, so, it's not like he likes big girls.
You know, women with curves.
Plus, whenever I give him hands, he doesn't pick it up.
Yeah, dudes.
I said, I'm ignoring you.
Stop ignoring me, ignoring you!
He might be in the big girl.
Do you ever ask him?
She probably notices the people he goes on dates with.
But you never know.
You try and shoot your shot.
He might roll you in flour and try to find the wet spot.
That's even more funny than because it rhymes.
Oh, he says, look, Queenie, I haven't seen him say no to any girl
who asks him out just like outright.
And he's dated different types of girls.
If I would compare him to like a traffic speed when it comes to picking up hints,
he's like the 101 freeway during rush hour or the 10 freeway during construction.
Let's say more like a school zone at 3pm during pickup and drop off.
Even when it's flowing freely, it's not going that fast.
It's not a freeway.
You trust me on this.
Then, Queenie said,
I'm trying to get his number like during projects and stuff.
And he always says, no, you can do it here in the classroom.
We don't have to find a place to work.
OP, I could give you his number.
But only if he's okay with it because I really don't want to cause issues over this.
You're inserting yourself directly into the middle of issues.
You should just steer clear. Why?
You're trying to do a nice thing, maybe build some bonds, but I don't think it's a good idea.
Queenie's eyes light up and she says, really?
And OP says, yeah, a good friend of art lad is a good friend of mine.
Too bad she's not a good friend even to art lad.
At this point, she was kind of warming up to me.
But looking back with the 2020 vision,
we were never going to be besties
because this really is just the beginning of her need of art lad.
Oh, she got like a little shrine in the closet or something like that.
Something you want to tell me, Queenie.
So, what can you tell me about him?
Does he have a type of favorite food, a favorite color?
Is he the romantic type?
OP says, well, I think as I haven't really talked to him about his romantic endeavors,
most of the info that I have is from his best friend, best bro.
And Queenie says, oh him.
Yeah, I've heard of him.
In fact, he tends to blow on my invites in favor of best bro.
OP, you've heard of him.
Yeah, well, best bro and him are like two brothers
and they're always doing shit together, always in the same groups.
Art lad always goes to best bro when it comes to dating or who to date.
Since best bro has been dating the same girl since high school,
which granted if your 19 is not all that long, but whatever.
And we take those, I guess.
Queenie says, what about art lad?
If best bro's been loyal to the same girl for so long,
he has to be the same as him, right?
OP.
Um, yeah, about that, Queenie.
What?
What are you trying to say?
Are you saying he's not?
So he's like, I'll go with the flow.
OP.
For some reason, his relationships don't really last longer than maybe three weeks.
The longest relationship he ever had was his last one before we graduated high school.
And even then, it only lasted like a month tops.
Queenie.
He just hasn't found the right woman.
A woman who often get a shit together.
He needs a good woman.
And yet, he gets you.
You hardly have your own shit together.
I don't know what you're thinking here.
Aren't lads just out there playing the field?
19-year-old guys?
A lot of fun.
I'm not saying you should go like sew your wild oats or anything,
but you know, it's good to practice planting.
Uh, OP says, I kid you not.
I remember Queenie fixing her bra up to make her boobs more.
I guess the term is perky.
And she did this at the same time she told me art lad needs a real woman.
And she had this air of like, it's obvious it's me, right?
Yeah, sure, whatever.
Get in there for a month, you know?
Best month of your life.
So, uh, we walked back and forth as we get the rest of the stuff.
And in my journal, it's noted that Queenie and I were having a good time.
But really, I think she was just sort of happy that she found someone
who would help her get her man.
With boxes in hand, we head back only to stop midway to Queenie's.
Queenie, we have to go the long way.
I don't want to go through here.
OP, huh?
Why is the way blocked or is there something wrong, Queenie?
I don't want to see him right now.
At least not until the first meeting.
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OP, what the...
Queenie that points out a heavy set dude from the crowd.
And he looks like he's in a pretty bad mood.
OP, you mean the guy who's frowning?
What's wrong?
Before I can finish my sentence, he walks over to us.
Well, maybe speed waddling over is more accurate.
And Queenie's really pushing me to start walking, but it's too late.
Hey Queenie.
We stop.
Queenie.
I don't have time.
Sour phaser.
I'm busy.
And we need to go.
Sour phaser.
No.
Not until you see my side of people being oppressive to fat guys.
We get just as much crap for people as women.
Maybe even more than the women.
And my answer is the same to both of you.
Then lose the weight.
You don't like it?
Then don't do it anymore.
But red eggs, it's not that simple when you get down to it.
It really is that simple.
Get rid of the baggage that is holding you back and do the thing you want to do.
Okay?
Also, as far as men getting more crap, maybe people will say it out loud more often to men.
But you will also see like fat dudes with hot chicks.
So yeah, it doesn't matter all that much.
How's your game?
That's what it really comes down to.
Anyway, Queenie says, I told you fuck face.
A fat man or not is a person's woman.
Because all he needs is to be funny for people to like him.
And women are given that option.
Why?
Because they're not funny.
And that's not true.
My wife is hilarious.
The real problem here is both your personalities are repulsive.
But nobody wants to acknowledge that fact.
That would bruise the ego a little bit.
If you don't have to seek self-improvement, then that sounds hard.
It's much easier to just believe it on being fat.
If I never change being fat, then I can always blame it on being fat.
Whatever.
Anyway, OP tries to break up the cat fight and says, uh, guys, do you want me to sower face?
No, it's not enough for men to be funny now.
Women want to fit, dude, while it's fat guys get nothing.
And people still treat us like crap.
OP, guys, I think we need to go back to the club brush thing in Queenie.
Oh, typical man.
Always thinking about yourself rather than changing for the greater good.
Not like you can handle women with curves.
You're just another man, baby.
Sower face says, I can handle women with curves.
It's just that those women don't want a nice guy like me.
Plus, if you have to see a woman with curves, want to join the club.
Only women like you.
Which, as we've described, is just one continuous curve.
Not plural curves.
It's ironic that Queenie would throw out the, like, changing yourself for the better thing.
Yeah, you have to do it. I don't.
It sounds like hard work. That's why it's meant for the man.
At this point, Queenie gave me a look that I can really only describe as like a...
how dare you kind of look.
She looks like she's about to drop what she was holding and maybe slap him.
But I cut into say, guys, please stop fighting.
There's no point.
The health at every size club is the place to have this talk.
But not a reason for why we have to fight.
They're both trying to wrestle control of this club that's newly formed.
Or they used to date.
I think probably they used to date.
But they were too similar and now they hate each other.
Opie says again, I don't like confrontation.
And we were in the middle of a busy area where all the coeds tend to gather between classes.
I could feel their eyes on us and I didn't like it.
We were being too loud.
Sour face.
And you the fuck are you?
What's a girl like you doing interrupting my conversation?
Opie says, oh, sorry, I'm dizzy.
And I'm one of the new members, Queenie.
She was helping me until you showed up.
Sour face.
I thought you finally went full lesbian.
Bro, what the hell?
Just because I don't really dress that feminine with bulky sweaters doesn't mean that I'm presenting as a lesbian.
I think really you just used me as like an F you to Queenie.
But yeah, we're being homophobic and for what?
To get your jabs in, I guess.
However, Opie says at this time I had no backbone.
Even for the shittiest of comebacks.
So Opie just says, uh huh.
Queenie.
Uh huh, very funny.
The same could be said about you with the lack of women around.
I'm also waiting for you to go full gay.
Opie, guys, please don't fight.
I don't like when people fight, including among friends.
Then they both say together, we're not friends.
Opie says you're not.
But then why would you two be Queenie?
Reasons!
Come on, let's just go. We're wasting time.
She walks by him and I follow her as we leave Sour face by his lonesome.
Yeah, he's probably used to that by now, wouldn't he?
I was left wondering why join a club with someone that you don't like.
Run by said someone.
Also, even allowing him to join, knowing that you can't stand him.
In my journal, I remembered that I figured they were maybe friends in the past
and had some sort of falling out.
Later I did find out why, but that's a spoiler.
I think I already spoiled it.
Do I have it right?
You could tell me if I have it right.
Anyway, we headed back to Art Lad where he was happily waiting for us.
Art Lad, hey, you're back.
Got everything or do?
And then he sees the Queenie as upset and asks,
whoa, hey, something wrong?
Queenie?
Yes, I ran into Sour face and he's still mad I didn't agree with him.
Art Lad?
Oh yeah, Sour face.
Well, at least he can't make you upset when you're running your club.
Queenie looks away when he says that.
Art Lad, why?
Did I do something wrong?
I pull him to the side while saying in the low voice.
Art Lad, he's part of the club too.
Art Lad, very loud.
What?
Dude, really?
I thought you fucking hated that guy.
Queenie, I need him to fill in the gender quote, okay?
Plus, he'll just cry about it.
He won't leave me alone if I don't.
Art Lad tried to say something before I stopped him with a,
maybe not right now.
Look, and he simply backed off.
I pulled closer to Art Lad while Queenie started settling the rest of the stuff on the table.
While she did that, Art Lad and I were whispering,
OP, you know about her in Sour face?
My first meeting with him is him just arguing with her.
And Art Lad says, huh?
Oh yeah, they do that a lot.
OP, you've seen it happen?
Is she vented to you?
Art Lad?
Oh yeah, like loads of times.
Sour face vents to me sometimes too.
OP, you know Sour face?
Like, as in a friend?
No, in a biblical sense, we've lain together.
Yes, as a friend.
Art Lad says, uh-huh.
Well, three of us had the same class.
Me and Sour face hung out a couple times,
Queenie hates that I do that,
and then goes a day or so, not talking to me.
Art Lad, you seem like a nice kid.
Why do you insist on hanging out with the bottom of the barrel, huh?
There weren't other people in the class,
more normal people in the class.
F.
OP says, number one.
How's that a good friendship?
And number two, do you know everyone on this campus?
It seems so far that I meet someone and you go,
oh yeah, I know that person.
Like, dude, don't you get burnt out or something?
There's only three months in the semester.
How do you even have time to meet people?
Art Lad?
Number one, just because some people are emotional
with their feelings doesn't mean that they're a bad person.
And number two, no, I don't know everyone on this campus.
Only the ones I go to class with.
You're making out like I'm some kind of friend or...
Yeah, people doing on Facebook takes a bit more commitment
in real life, I feel.
Really trying to fill that social hole in my heart
with all of these empty, meaningless relationships.
F.
It's just art classes anyway.
They're not that hard and it was summer semester.
Winter and summer semesters aren't even full semesters.
They're like, just half as long.
OP.
What?
Really, so fall and spring semesters are the only ones
that are full?
Art Lad?
Yeah.
It's like going to summer school.
You could fuck around during winter and summer months
and not lose your school funding.
The beauty of community college.
Hell yeah, why graduate?
We should stick around here for as long as we can.
It's kind of a weird way to go through life.
But okay.
OP says, let me guess.
You were trying to get some art girl Choncha, huh?
Trying to have a taste of that beautiful panocha?
Art Lad says, shut up.
It's not even like that.
Also, I'm white.
I don't even know what the hell Choncha and panocha even means.
It's panocha.
You'll have to announce the eating.
OP says, I always laugh when reddick says Choncha.
That's such an East LA slang that is always funny
when a non-Hispanic person says it.
I mean, my brother's an honorary Mexican.
I'm not going to go into it.
But yes, he's the one that taught me that.
I'm sure y'all know what Choncha is.
But panocha in Mexico is actually a cone-shaped block
of brown sugar.
But it also is slang for Choncha.
As I try that to laugh my ass off, that's when I hear Queenie.
Hey, guys.
Are you going to help me here?
Just stand there and talk.
I actually didn't want to talk for a few more minutes.
But I'm going to put that panocha in my pocket for later.
OP says, oh, sorry.
And Art Lad says, we'll be right there, Queenie.
By the way, did anyone want to join while I was gone?
Art Lad?
Maybe one.
I tried to explain what the goal of this club was
by explaining what HAES means.
Queenie.
And how did you explain it?
Art Lad?
Oh, easy.
I said that sometimes we don't like how our bodies look
and wish we could look like the people in the movies.
Then I said, like, just look at me.
I wish I could look like Bruce Lee,
but I made peace with my body, and you should too.
He ended with the biggest smile on his face while Queenie says,
ugh, typical man.
Of course you've made peace with your body, your fit,
and you take hikes, and you don't have to worry about weight gain
or how your weight makes people be addicted to you.
But I'll let it slide since we're friends and you're a man.
Art Lad says sweet.
Thanks, Queenie.
I think.
Yeah, a little closer than the first time I guess.
We're definitely making baby steps.
I really am waiting for the bottom to fall out, but, you know, slow burn.
It's all right.
Anyway, the rest of the club rush went smoothly.
We didn't get any more members that day,
but we still had the rest of the first week to get people to join.
I somewhat remember Queenie telling Art Lad and I that we meet every Friday
and this coming Friday is the first ever meeting.
So be prepared to learn about body inclusivity
and be more mindful about people with bigger bodies.
I mean, she means horizontal, but I'm more concerned with the vertical.
Especially as someone who spent most of my adult life now in Asia.
I was ahead to tall for everything in Japan and now I'm in the Philippines.
And I'm still ahead to tall.
And now everything has a rusty nail sticking out of it.
It's going to be fine.
But that's not the type of body inclusivity we're talking about.
Is it?
Is it truth is?
I don't give a shit what size you are as long as you aren't intruding on my space.
Be courteous to others and we're going to get along just fine.
As soon as we start making it weird, well, I know how to make it weird too.
Anyway, that's where we'll end our tale for now.
The next tale is going to be about Queenie's first ever meeting
and getting to meet the rest of the club members.
It is a small club, but oh boy.
I do remember having quite a difficult time in that club.
Thanks for reading this.
I know I'm not the best storyteller.
Don't be afraid to criticize me and I'll see you on the next tale.
Drink lots of fluids, not Mountain Dew.
And with peace and love, dizzy out.
Yeah, I feel like the story is constructed well.
There's like grammar issues and stuff, but I know it's just from writing in English
when that's not your main language.
So yeah, I fixed that up where I could and I think there was only one point
where I didn't understand something that was meant.
And that might have just been my own brains failure.
Overall, yeah, it was a storyline and it moved forward.
Like I said, it's a little bit of a slow burn, you know,
but I'm willing to wait it out.
That's fine.
You are the maestro.
I'm simply going along with the notes or however the hell that works.
Doesn't a maestro keep beats?
I don't care.
Anyway, yeah, Queenie is quite a specimen.
I'd say definite nice grow vibes.
I could probably slap legbeard stories on the thing, you know,
just to keep everything tight and tidy.
But I'll have to roll it around for a couple days.
I'll think about that one.
Doesn't matter to you.
I titled it already by the time he goes here is whatever.
I hope you enjoyed the video friends.
Sign up on the Patreon if you would or the YouTube membership side
appreciate both of those things quite highly.
You could also share the video around or like it or do whatever you want.
That would be pretty neat, right?
We've also got my fourth wall if you'd like to go check that out.
Again, thank you, Candle.
But if you don't click any of those things, that's okay.
You might click another red X video on the side,
but that would be neat.
Okay, I'm done begging you for things now.
Now it's time for me to remind you that you are loved.
You're worthy.
You definitely definitely deserve it.
And I shall see you in the next one.
So until then, bye bye.
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