Confessions of a Hot Mess

I caused a bit of an uproar among the administration of my university last week, thanks to a column I penned that had what was apparently “scandalous” information about rim jobs. The long and the short of it is that I’m now under apparent probation on the paper and everything I write will now be scrutinized and censored within an inch of its life. Really, if I don’t tell the kids about rim jobs, who will? Anyway, since I don’t want to work for a boring, fascist-run publication, I have defected to the shiny side and shall now write many magical and uncensored things here.

All you need to know about me is that I’m a hot mess, and have earned myself the nickname LiLo thanks to my all my messy and hot exploits. Oh, and I own a lot of pink glitter, my favorite shoes are four-inch heels of magenta satin, and my favorite pants are skin-tight fake leather. I have mastered the art of throwing up in public with grace, and there’s a high chance I’ve consumed more drugs in one day than you will in an entire year. Somehow I manage to keep good standing in all my classes.

Some weeks ago, I found myself in Rome for a class on Italian art from the ancients through the moderns. Interesting stuff for sure, but after spending a day inside the Vatican I seriously needed to unwind with some drinks and dancing. The Vatican is a stressful place for me because every time I go I’m convinced the Pope is going to come out and publicly excommunicate me. I’m not even Catholic, but this fear still persists.

So after the Vatican I went back to my hotel for a quick nap, then headed off to the room of a certain fabulous friend of mine who was also on this trip. With him, he had a list of 24 gay clubs in Rome, and from this list we decided upon the night’s “Gorgeous” party at a venue called Alpheus. It took us a very long time to find the venue, my infamous directional skills failing me for once. Find it we did though (after asking approximately ten thousand and three Romans for directions), hidden down a long and poorly-lit street in an area of Rome best described as sketchville. On one side of the street was a huge electrical plant, and on the other side… club heaven.

Five rooms, with different styles of music in each room, lights and color, dancing, and most importantly…drinks. At the first bar I found (a different one in each room!!), I was helped by a beautiful and scantily clad lesbian bartendress who said she liked my dress and gave me more alcohol than I was expecting. That, my friends, is a wonderful thing. For first drinks, my friend had a cosmo and I had a whiskey-cola (that, of course, being my signature drink). It was pointed out that I looked super lesbiany with my combat boots, purple dress, and whiskey-cola, and I did not care because that whiskey-cola had a lot of whiskey.

The club was awesome. There was such a great vibe and everyone was really into dancing. I hung out in the pop room and everyone went crazy whenever Madonna or Kylie came on. I went back to the lezzie bartendress for more alcohol, and thanks to some language barriers (I wasn’t drunk enough yet to be fluent in Italian), I ended up with a giant cup full of only vodka. I’d asked for one shot, but I got about eight. For the price of one! It was, shall I say, splendid.

To be continued...

(Tales of a Lesbo has shortly been suspended due to our very own Lesbotico actually partaking in a real-life serious degree and not having the time to do such trivial things as ruminate on her lesbotico life. She shall be returning shortly, we hope. In the meantime enjoy the ramblings of our very own amazing Lindsay Lohan. May we just point out for legal reasons that we do not condone drug use of any kind on any level, and that the writings of 'Hot Mess' do not reflect the values of Shiny & New in any way. We do find it very funny though, and completely amazing. - Ed.)