Detective Protagitron

I'm sorry, I've slipped back into a weekly publishing schedule. Blame my abusive boyfriend, aka McGill University. And the night I was a rent-a-cop for the McGill Model UN. You see, I occasionally, out of guilt, volunteer at Walksafe. That's an outfit at McGill you can phone at night if you need to be accompanied anywhere on the island. In case you need all the safety and protection a 5'1" girl like me can offer. We also annually do "security" at the hotel where the McMun conference is happening. We act as a buffer so the Israeli Security Council doesn't order too many hookers and get the model UN banned from any hotel for life.

Well, in my dreams I hustled hookers out of the door. Actually, I spent most of the night knocking on doors and awkwardly telling rowdy types to simmer down. Oh, and the only semi-professional clothes I own are very "Lesbian at the PTA," except I lack a natural butch authority. They had me with this other guy, who was very sweet and conscientious. He would be the first to knock on any door if he heard a peep. Unfortunately, he would then just stare at them in silence. So it was up to me and my domestic partner pants to instill fear in their hearts. Check it: "Heyyyyyyyy guyyyyys.... Yeah, there's uh, a few too many people in your room, so you need to keep it down, mmmkay?" They positively wet themselves in fear. Well, at least they didn't laugh at me. They are true keeners at heart, so they would whisper an apology and then shut up.

They are horny little monkeys in the pants though. Further evidence that large gatherings of nerds descend into bacchanalias. (see: engineers) I'm just waiting for the cat-loving, comic book-reading, action-loving nerd demographic to reach critical mass so I can engage in some whoring. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll ever achieve the budget of McMun, so we can't give out free muffins to those who keep us in line.