Jason Rodriguez - The Moose in the Closet: Roller Coaster…of Love

While I was packing I came across my collection of Roller Coaster pictures. I am quite the Roller Coaster aficionado; I have ridden everyone that challenged me. Once I conquer a Roller Coaster I like to taunt it, pose for its camera and let it know that this ride is my bitch.

Observe how I show my dominance over the coaster. Watch me flash it; watch me rock it. This one is my favorite, however. I look like I am either concentrating or constipated and Robin looks like she’s taking headshots for a press release.

I wasn’t always a roller coaster fan; I actually used to be afraid of them. I used to be a spinning ride fan. But then one summer, I believe I was 13, my manhood was tested by a woman, I rode my first “adult” coaster and I have been addicted since.

Melanie was her name, I don’t remember the coaster. I believe it had a snake theme. Wildwood, New Jersey. My parents fell for a time share of sorts - Outdoor World to be exact. It was awesome the first few years, we would go down there with friends and swim in the lake, play basketball…it was a damn good time for city folk like us.

It was also where I had my first summer fling. Melanie Something. I’ve made out with girls before Melanie but Melanie was the first booby I touched bare-skin, on the playground one night. It was on the tire swing where I made my first attempt at romance, whispering into Melanie’s ear, “You must be horny, your nipples are hard.”

“No, it’s just cold,” she responded before getting up and walking away. The following day she hooked up with some guy named Peter because he was from Philly, like her, and that was apparently more convenient. All I know was I spent that entire week with a condom in my wallet – I was a few years off but hey, at least I was responsible.

That condom stayed in my wallet for a year. Then, one day, I was playing Genesis in my room with G when my mom comes in, says, “How are you guys doing?” and instantly goes across my room, grabs my wallet, pulls out the condom and says, “WHAT’S THIS?” She claims to this day that she saw the ring from across the room. Bullshit, she zoomed in on that wallet like a friggin’ Hawk, that whole scene was a set-up.

She threw my condom out. Not because I shouldn’t have it, but because it was 6 months expired.

My first condom. Trojan, blue wrapper, stolen from my father’s draw. When I started buying my own, still a few years off, I got the “Large” kind, hoping some woman would notice it and think I was rocking some serious manhood.

I was such an idiot. Never handling the whole puberty/sex thing well. I was doomed from the start. In the sixth grade I told this girl Nicole, “I know I’m mature, I got hair on my dick.” So smooth. Of course, Mrs. Shea, the school librarian, overheard my comment and told my teacher, Mr. Ringston, who sat me down and told me how I shouldn’t say that to women and besides, men don’t get hair on their penis they get it on their testicles so I was probably lying. If that wasn’t awkward enough, he told me this while sowing a dress for our sixth grade dance festival. Yes, we had a dance festival. And yes, Mr. Ringston made dresses for the girls and tuxedos for the boys. And yes, we danced to More Than a Woman.

And yes, that was the most uncomfortable moment of my life.

read a book, fanboy: Carter Beats the Devil

turn off the metallica, fanboy: Third Eye Vision

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Roller Coaster…of Love

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

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