By Alice Anigacz

For most of you kiddies, the last month was a time of relaxation. No school meant a month with nothing to do but decompress, i.e. party in such a way as to cause permanent damage to your young, impressionable bodies. But for us Mac Weekly writers, winter break entailed yet another factor: separation from our newspaper calling. I considered making that typically temporary separation a permanent one as I pondered throwing in my keyboard and ending my relationship with the Mac Weekly in favor of a more fulfilling one. Dare I say one that awarded me sexual favors? Maybe even a human relationship? Below are the chronicles of the four weeks that led me to the decision I made.
Week 1: Back in the NYC. I meet friends and rejoice when they say to me, “How have you been faring?” and not the Mac favored, “Yo, I read your article. Pubes! Tehehe.” They introduce me to new people, who greet me with a pleasant, “Hello. Fine day, no?” not the alternative “Wait, wait, uhm, I know you. Oh, you write that sex column! Wait, I have a question! It’s good!” We drink and laugh and discuss such things as global warming, urban sprawl, and Barack Obama. Yup, no more sour, unrefined comments about anal beads, pubic hair, water sports, etc., etc.
Week 2: When an acquaintance talks about a boy she met the other day, my mind instinctively jumps to thoughts of how far they got. A little finger flicking action? Licky lick? Or did it get right to the jiggy jiggy? I keep my mouth closed as I realize I should think before I speak. Five minutes pass, still thinking. I am so close to asking, the words are cramped between my teeth and lips, making my face puff out and turn an astonishing red that can usually only signal excruciating pain. The acquaintance gasps when she notices my changed appearance and shakes me, asking, “Are you ok?” I cannot risk offending her, so I keep my mouth shut, breathing quickly through my nose when I realize that I have been ignoring this wonderful orifice. She is disturbed and we part ways.
Week 3: I overhear a woman on the subway scolding her thirteen year old daughter for having sex. This is no longer a time for holding backƒ?”I must correct this grave injustice. I open the mouth that I have been keeping metaphorically shut. “Maybe if you got laid you would not be so mad about your daughter embracing her sexuality. May I suggest a threesome? With your tried and true knowledge and your daughter’s recent experimentation, it would be an educational experience for everybody.” I only have a split second to realize what I have said before I find myself laying on the subway floor, wearing my swollen eye like a badge of honorƒ?”I have re-entered the world of the vulgar and explicit!
Week 4: My last week is one so sexually open that it is unprecedented. I ask my parents to describe to me in detail the night of my conception. My friend with the seemingly homosexual boyfriend is badgered about whether he ever requests for her to put objects in his anus. I ask a homeless man what the shelter sex scene is like. I find these questions usually do not get positive responses. Clearly, it is my time to return to the role of the one being questioned. With that being said, send me questions!