Papers. Crazy boring...just walk on by.

They're such fickle creatures. Sometimes I have to rip them out of me. Most times even. This Austen paper just seemed to flow out. I was actually jamming to music while I wrote it. 3006 words since 5 pm, with plenty of breaks for Avatar with Barb and chats with Jowie. I wonder if it's just the topic. I have, after all, had a long love affair with Jane Austen.

I'm hoping my love for gay men will help me out with the Wilde paper. I'm going to be discussing sexuality and perceived sexual deviance in the Victorian period using Dorian Gray as my focal point. Interesting enough right? That's my task for Friday and Saturday. Notes then paper.

Sunday I'll finish Austen and do both my bibliographies.

I know, boring, but this is a pact I'm making with myself right here. I need to get these papers done and not lose my mind because there's still another biggie coming down the pipeline.

I was thinking the other day about how many books and journal articles I've consulted for papers over the span of my degree and it kind of made my head hurt.

I must be going crazy because I just had the thought that I was going to miss writing papers. Oh no! This whole school's-ending-life's-starting mania is eating away at my brain!

Jane Austen can wait.

Instead of working on my paper, I'm going to walk downtown to enjoy the sun and run some errands. I think it's an excellent idea.

Only 3200 words to go anyway.

I wish I was there.

Dancing near the Siene. How many people have walked or danced or ate along the Siene? That's what struck me the most, about London and Paris, sometimes I'd be standing in a particular spot (one time I remember was when I was watching Jo trying to climb one of the lions in Trafalgar Square) and I'd imagine the thousands, milliions of people that had walked there before me.

Everything is steeped in history. I wonder if Toronto or New York will feel that way in a thousand years (assuming, of course, that our alien overlords haven't destroyed them).

Still awake.

Remember that time it was 5:18 AM and I wasn't asleep despite serious attempts to the contrary?

Good times.

The true story behind this picture.

Toni: All this drinking has made me hungry.
Evan: But we're in a bar, what can we eat here?
Toni: I don't know! I'm completely miserable!
Evan: Well Alicia's sitting right here, doing nothing. I've missed the taste of human flesh.
Toni: Excelsior!

Word.

Existential Crisis

This essay will never be finished.

Monday marks the second to last Monday of classes.

I have to move out of this house by the end of April.

Into a dumpster. Probably.

I'm going to end up working no where and my evil aunt will laugh because my life has gone no place special.

Weekend Home

It's the obligatory I-went-home-my-grandparents-are-weird entry. YAY!

So it's been a (monetarily) tight couple of weeks (months) for us Brothelmates. We didn't have any milk last week, mostly because it was my turn to buy it and I didn't have the cash/inclination to purchase some. Such is the life of a student. Told my grandparents, off handedly, that there was no milk in the house and they were APPALLED. My grandma's convinced that I'm going to get osteoporosis tomorrow and remains absolutely unconvinced that I'm getting the calcium I need, no matter what I say. She keeps reminding me that sometimes people with osteo sneeze and break a rib. Thanks grandma.

Currently writing a 'research strategy' for my Topics in Scottish History. It's supposed to be 'helpful' for our final project. Assignments like these, where I'm expected to go through the motions of research for a piddly little six page paper really drive me insane. Makes me want to tell the professor to 'eat me'.

I really don't know what all the random quotations were about.

I need to do laundry.

EVERYTHING I OWN SMELLS. I put on pants and I thought they were clean. THEY ARE NOT FRIENDS.

GAH!

Clothes are slowly eating away at the floor of my room and I'm pretty sure they're stinking up the place. What is it that my body does that produces that smell?

Don't answer that, anyone.

Nelson Mandela

I love Nelson Mandela. I have since I first dragged my teenaged head out of my ass and grew a social conscience. Read A Long Walk to Freedom in first year. Loved him even more. I realize that I'm not alone in this. Just thought I'd put it out there.



Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world. -Nelson Mandela

Pure Class

Went to see the Guelph Project with my platonic life mates Jo and Barb. I enjoyed it. Thought one of the guys was HOTT but Marieke said he was an ass. Of course.

The pure class thing? My outfit. I wore my "I've heard your baby is delicious" t-shirt and on my blazer I had the pin that Jo and Susan got me that says, "Who needs brains with tits like these?" Both the pin and the shirt just make me feel good. And they're generally a hit, especially with the university students. Normal people? Not so much. Wore the baby t-shirt into a McDonald's once and scared a small child and their parent. Excelsior!

I wear both ironically, naturally. Clearly I'm chock full of brains and I've never contemplated the deliciousness of a baby in my life.

Not yet anyway.

New Internet Crush

Mark Simpson. Awesome dude. While he is the creator of the term 'metrosexual' I can forgive him because he writes with insight and candor on culture and sexuality. And he's funny. So there.

I really liked his article on male bisexuality. Curiouser and Curiouser.

Read his other stuff too. I disagree with his review of Brokeback Mountain. Obviously, I loved it. I can see his point though. I wish there was more gay sex in it too. *wink*

Angrification.

I CAN'T HANDLE THE COLD. AND I HATE BUSES.

I'm only just regaining feeling in my fingers right now, so you'll have to excuse me if the rest of this blog comes off like a rant.

First of all: Professor of European Women's history. I don't know how you've managed it but you've made it so that I have no desire to learn about women. Do you realize that I'm the target audience for this class? I'm a fucking feminist. I eat this shit up. And you've managed to make me dread attending your class. Good job.

Secondly: Stupid smokers. I used the moniker stupid, because not all smokers are bad. I'm going to avoid it myself, but you know to each his own. The girls I saw today, however, are bad. Stupidly bad. Stupendously Stupid. If you're running for a bus, don't you think it would be a good idea if you abandoned your cigarettes instead of taking drags as you stupid boots clicked furioiusly along the pavement? No? Oh, all right.

Thirdly: To the ten year old on the bus. Eyeliner and mascara and red lipstick are not for you. The following things are acceptable facewear for you: lipsmackers and other varieties of chapsticks. That is all. Stop being a whore-in-training.

Fourthly: To the service employees of the world. I feel for you guys, really I do. Susan tells me it's a hard job, and I believe her. Accordingly I will tip well and not be a jerk to you. If, however, you persist in bringing me the wrong Booster Juice/side dish when I CLEARLY stated which one I wanted, I'm going to ask for WHAT I ACTUALLY ORDERED. If you could avoid rolling your eyes at my completely polite and reasonable request next time, that would be great.

Fifthly: Blogger, if you don't post my irrational rants in a timely fashion, you're going on The List.

That was totally a rant. No other word for it. I think that's all for now.

I'm a geek.

Doing some research for my Jane Austen paper and I just thought, "Crap, I won't have this unrestricted access to the university's journal articles when I'm done school."

And I've been reading Noam Chomsky articles for fun tonight.

And my favourite tv show is Battlestar Galactica.

And I love my computer more than I loved that fish I had back in second year.


Can we still be friends?

One of those random entries where I write down a bunch of unrelated crap.

My dad came down to visit today which was especially nice. I was inordinately excited for reasons that I don't entirely understand. I love my dad, but seeing him has never been a special event or anything. At the same time, I was all concerned about how I was going to amuse him while he was here. I had this idea in my head that we'd have nothing to talk about. Rather dumb considering I haven't seen in him in like three weeks. The only low point was when he started talking about repairs to his car. Double yawn.

This is quite random and I feel a little bit dumb putting it out there but anyway, here goes. Someone from Ohio reads my blog fairly regularly. I have a suspicion that it's my friend Ioana who moved out there a couple of years ago. If it is indeed you, Ioana, email me (hotmail is fine) because I've completely lost your email address and I wanted to say hey. If it isn't, hi Ohio! Thanks for reading my blog.

If you all didn't know I was a dummy before now, I don't think you've been reading this blog very carefully.

Nothing remotely special happened to me this weekend but it was a good one nonetheless. Had dinner with Alicia who is a constant source of delight and then we went out to see a play that a couple of my friends were in. Just in case you're reading: AWESOME job Rumours people. Loved it! Alicia joked that it was the best date ever on the bus ride home and we stuck our tongues out in a really obnoxious way, fake making out. Being juvenile is right up my alley.

Yeah, that's pretty much the round up. Plan on slacking quite a bit this evening. At least try and act surprised.

More inebriated roommates

I feel like every other time I post in this blog its about mind-altering substances and their use within the household. Oh well, we ARE in university. Preface: I'm completely sober.

Susan: Keeps telling us that she shouldn't be allowed to talk on MSN when she's drunk but refuses to tell us why. Jo and I keep encouraging her to get the person she's talking with to cut their hair. One of our slogans? 'No cut, no butt." I said I wasn't drunk, I didn't say I was a good person.

Lindz: Insisting that she's calling me Toni Two-Times from now on, demands to know who I'm two-timing. Is it Barb with Susan? Susan with Lindz? Lindz with Jo? Jo with some random boy? I don't know how to properly answer the question and am inudated with more demands for the truth.

Jowie: Trying to work a banana, "It won't come out!" My offers of help were rebuffed, "I can do it Toni." The 'duh' was implied. Oh, of course, my mistake.

I love them all so much right now.

Random Explosm I've saved to my computer.

Worried about the lack of pictures? Worry no longer friends. Something to tickle your eyeballs, coming right up.


This is my all time favourite. My life will be complete when I say this to someone.

St. Patrick's Day.

A day to get drunk and disorderly before noon. Seriously, there were guys being belligerent from their front porch, holding cups of beer while I was waiting for the bus at 11:30 AM. They tapped a keg before noon. Good job. Probably had to get up early just so you could get extra shit-faced.

Better way to celebrate the day? Make out with me. I'm Irish.

The Family Stone

So sometimes I get into these ruts where I watch a movie over and over again. Just have it on in the background while I'm doing other things on the computer. Right now that movie is The Family Stone.

Trust me, I do know better.

As I was telling Mel, I'm completely in love with the big family dynamic in the movie. They all love each other and they're all in each other's grills and they all understand each other. It all looks so warm and comfortable. And, as a bonus, recreational pot use is treated very casually.

I totally get why I like it. Sometimes I'm completely transparent and my thoughts about big families have always been very clear to me. There's definitely a part of me that's very cynical, sure that marriages generally don't work and that the movie shows me an unrealistic and idealized representation of a family. And there's a part of me that knows that families of all different shapes and sizes have value and knows that I wouldn't want to change my family just because we're not normal. But there's also this part of me that has wanted a big, normal family from the time I was little, from when I was 6 and my parents got divorced or when I was 12 and my mom died. And that doesn't change just because you're 21.

There's your daily (probably weekly) allotment of schlock.

AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Someone found my blog by searching for Professor "big boobs". How apropos. Finally, something to call myself if I ever become a porn star.

Stupid Toni

It's come to my attention that I really need to read posts over before I post them. Everytime I read something on the internet that's misspelled I'm all pshaw. Now I've become what I hate.

So very ashamed.

Failing to outwalk the elderly

So I didn't have class today. Never do on Thursdays. Probably should have just stayed home, read The Picture of Dorian Gray and continued to recuperate. I was all stir crazy, though. Needed to get out of the house. As other alternatives failed to present themselves, I decided to go out for a walk. There's a bakery/coffee shop thing that's a good distance for walking from our house so I decided to go there.

Excellent! Coffee. Organic. It's becoming clear to me that when I move out and start brewing coffee all on my lonesome, I'm going to have to buy organic. What a hippie I've become. Never fear, dear reader, I'll continue to wear leather and eat meat. Wouldn't want to disappoint the fans.

Title? Oh yes. So, on the way home there was someone walking behind me almost the entire way. Some old lady. Eventually the old lady crossed to the other side of the street and I got the perverse urge to race her, leave her far behind, prove my youthful vigor. Started walking faster with my coffee and cookie in hand. Didn't take me long to realize I couldn't breathe through my nose or throat, both of them being clogged with significant amounts of phlegm. I'm hot, I know. So I slowed down and the old lady walked right past me, smug look of triumph on her old face.

It's possible that I imagined that look.

New (ish) Links

So awhile ago I added a bunch of blog links to the side. They come quite highly recommended. From me. I'll give you the low down.

Pruned: About landscape architecture. No, come back. I swear it's the coolest! There are pretty pictures. Check it out.

The Rhetorical Letter Writer: Well, who doesn't like Rhetorical Letters? Also, hitting on all of todays hard-hitting issues, like pepper and kleenex and collusion between the pepper and kleenex industries. Go forth!

Bad Astronomy: If I was ANY good at math, I'd be a theoretical physicist right now. Then all of you jerks laughing because I'm a history major would be sorry! So damn sorry! Because I could calculate your butt right off into outer space. Stuff like this is right up my alley. Pictures and science news and awesomeness.

Petite Anglaise: This woman intrigues me, I think I'd like to be this self-aware and eloquent when I grow up. Love her blog, love her writing.

Cute Overload: Oh, I'm so ashamed. They're little and furry! I can't help myself. I swear I'm not 14 years old.

Man Vs. Clown: I wish I was this sassy. Anyone that can incorporate Dyson Spheres into their blogging deserves a hearty handshake.

My syphillis is flaring up again.

So Monday, pretty much the most demoralizing day of my life. Sick, so everything is 4 times as hard. Went to a class that I really didn't have to, bus ride home = death on wheels as usual. I'm feverish, I'm achy and probably smelly. And I have a paper to write. Crap. Crap, friends.

After a little freaking out, I settled in to work on my paper. Then, because it's me and I spill things like three times a day, I knocked over my orange juice and managed to get it EVERYWHERE. All over my chair, my keyboard, my books, my notes, my carpet, my legs. The computer remained untouched, but that's about it.

So, if you can picture it, I'm sitting on my floor, surrounded by books I flung to the floor in my orange juice related temper tantrum. My brown chair is covered in dark wet spots where the orange juice had its way. I'm in my red robe, having abandoned my orange juice covered pants and shirt to the laundry, sticky all down one butt cheek and thigh from orange juice. And I'm coughing and my head is throbbing.

It wasn't my finest moment. I screamed, definitely.

I ruined about three keyboards in an 18 month keyboard because I kept spilling water on them, I'm impressed that Jo's ancient keyboard that she kindly allowed me to use has held up so well under the barrage of orange juice. They just don't build 'em like they used to. All the arrow keys and numbers are sticky. The arrow keys, in fact, have decided they are no longer functioning.

I still sound pretty bad and I've still got the smoker's cough and my nose is still running. You're turned on, I can tell.

Man, that's crazy boring. Maybe I'll post some dirty pictures or something to liven things up around here.

A Friendly Letter

Dear Creator of Chicago Style of Citation,

You are a sadistic bastard. Why does the author's name appear first then last in the footnote and then the opposite in the bibiliography? I've decided the only reason can be that you like to torture people, like to make the end of the essay writing process particularly horrible.

Also, you can take your annoying commas and go fuck yourself.

No Love,
Toni

The acrostic poem I sent Susan

Super
Umbra
Sly like a fox
Awesomely Super
Neat dude

I watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang without her because I'm inherently absentminded. Thus I wrote the above poem in her honour. Susan says its the worst acrostic poem ever composed in her honour. I just don't think that's possible. I don't think she noticed that I managed to use super twice.

I guess I'm going to have to try harder to get back in her good books.

"To all you good people in the Midwest, sorry we said "fuck" so much. "

The house is quiet. Everyone's out but me. Melancholy in the good way. Between periodically hacking up one and a half of my two precious lungs and a consistently sore throat, I watched an ill-gotten movie, drank approximately 8 million litres of water and basically finished the homework I wanted to do today.

The best thing, though, was that I wrote. Am writing currently. And it's not for school and I don't hate it. I've totally jinxed it now, I'm going to lose interest in the story in the next five minutes I bet. That's the story of me and writing. On Neil Gaiman's blog he was offering tips about writing or something and he said one of the most important parts of writing was finishing things. You never know if its good or not unless you finish it, something along those lines. Well, I never have. Maybe three things over the past ten years. And Jesus Christ I can never let anyone read anything. I think I let (made) Jo read a paragraph of something once and I was in a cold sweat the entire time. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but you get the idea. Probably a good thing I don't want to be a writer "when I grow up".

So I've definitely been A LOT sicker but the sore throat is really irritating. It's hanging around in the background, rarely flaring up into anything but reminding me that I can't declare myself healthy and making me sluggish. The only good part about a cold is the relief that you get when you drink something cold. For a split second when it slides down your throat everything is back to normal, not red and hot and scratchy.

Late night confessions

We drank. There was a great deal of snuggling. I think I licked two people's hands. To be completely fair to me, Evan started it. My throat still hurts, possibly not helped by all the yelling. There were two bad bands. I touched Barb's beard a lot and the chins of at least 4 people. What a weirdo I am.

Then we came home and ate birthday cake. Only it was the king of birthday cakes. The birthday cake to end all others. We started with a cake and then made brownie and crumbled that on top of it and then we sprinkled M&Ms on top of that. I'm sure we all have diabetes now. While we ate cake we watched the Magic Bullet informercial and I called Jo, Susan, Barb, Evan and myself a dumb bitch, at least 3 times each. But you know, with love.

Highlight of the night:
Barb- What about sex with an emu?
Toni- Oh I love the emu sex.
Barb- *indescrible warble/scream*
Toni- That's not the sound an emu makes
Barb- It is when it's getting boned in the mouth.

And then we all laughed for 10 years.

What a classy bunch. I'm sure I've scared you all away. Time to go sleep it off.

What a Cheeky Monkey.

The 'Hoff.

Short Term Resolutions

Breathe.

Do not panic about medieval Aberdeen paper, you've written a million. (See above resolution)

Enjoy today, 'cause you get to celebrate the birth of Subutron.

Listen to Music To Fuck To by Portishead as often as possible because the title is the best thing ever.

Read the book (Eragon by Paolini) you stole from your sister.

Get a hug.

Procrastinating against the man.

I have a complicated relationship with a certain professor of mine. On the one hand, I want to stick my tongue out at him, on the other....he delivers amazing lectures. AMAZING.

Today he even managed to make me feel good about procrastination.

We were talking about the industrial revolution in Britain and the way it changed the rhythm of work. After the industrial revolution, work was dictated by (newly standardized) time and the machines. You worked as the machines worked, all the time and for long periods of time. In the good old days, if you were an artisan you practiced something called "task discipline" where you would only work hard when you had to and rested in between. Three day weekends were the norm, thanks to a hilariously titled fake religious holiday called St. Monday. That's actually a thing and not the product of my delusional mind, pre/early modern artisans were the best! Come to think about it, I've been taking that same holiday off myself.

So really, when I ignore my work for weeks and then put in a frantic fortnight of effort, I'm not procrastinating, I'm practicing "task discipline".

If you think about it, by not working at a steady pace I'm fighting the machine and the man. Really, us procrastinators are freedom fighters.

You should probably shake my hand the next time you see me.

Jainism

These are pictures, again taken from the BBC, of a Jain religious festival in which a statue of an ancient Jain teacher is annointed with different paints and oils. Jainism is an ancient religion that promotes ahimsa - non violence to any living thing. Believers are strict vegetarians and won't even kill bugs or anything like that. I like my chicken as much as the next person and god knows I'm the only one that kills spiders in this hosue, but is still think that ahimsa is a pretty cool idea.

Some religions are just cooler than others. It's not all "be non-violent unless you have a really good reason" or "killing is okay in the name of God." It's no violence. Period. Even against bugs.

Monday Night

The idea was to go to a place that had some live music. We were like, yeah, that's a bunch of fun. We ended up at a place with no live music but it was actually a good time. I had a midterm and looooooooooooooonnnnngggg class before, so it was nice to go unwind for a while before heading home. We sat around and talked about stuff and had cheap drinks. I gotta tell you though, the bar lady was pretty stingy with the vodka. In the end, not incredibly inebriated, not even very, I'd say. Afterwards there was the obligatory bad-for-you-food and we took the last bus home.

I bought this piece of rock candy the other day, mint flavoured. I gotta say, it's a pretty boring kind of candy. I feel bad for the people in olden times that didn't have the candy selection we do.

It occurs to me that the previous sentence and the fact that I randomly started talking about rock candy is a product of my inebriation. I'm posting nonetheless!

Finally: one of my friends left me an instant message while I was out and said "...i can't find any hair elastics or bands, i'm wearing a bra on my head to keep my hair out of my face..." I'm still giggling right now.

Love.

Born into Brothels

One of the pictures by Puja, I think, of the other children. Not my favourite one but still excellent. I know there's some thought out there that this kind of documentary and photo journalism is exploitive of the people it examines. I don't think they're entirely wrong. I can't help but feel, though, that any attention paid to these children who the world has forgotten can't be a bad thing.

One of the kids who was particularly talented was sent to Amsterdam and when showing one of his pictures to a group of children he said something along the lines of, "It's sad but we have to look at it because it's the truth." As moved as I was by what he said, Jo and I agreed that it's sad in a way that a twelve year old can be that profound. 12 year olds should be thinking about frivolous things.

I really can't recommend the documentary enough, in case that wasn't already clear.

Movies that will break your heart.

1. Born into Brothels
2. Nobody Knows
3. Brokeback Mountain

Watched Born into Brothels today and it just wrecked me. It was beautiful and haunting. The children were charming and they took beautiful pictures. A few of which I'm sure I'll post later.

Loved. Even though I cried. Maybe because of that.

More Stoned Jo

"Hey Toni, which would you rather do, dip your feet in acid or fly a teddy around the world?"

You have to trust them because they're tips.

Stoned Jo's helpful tips for Susan:

Tip #18- glasses are your best friend
Tip #63- don't brush your hair with peanut butter
Tip #909- don't kiss a fish on New Years

I'm so over me.

Excellent hair: check
Goodly other stuff: check
Got into the bar: check
People there that I knew: check

So why wasn't I having fun? Ugh.

I make these resolutions not to feel bad about the little decisions that I make and yet, here I am, feeling completely stupid about leaving the bar early.

Seriously. So over me.

Public Service Announcement.

The alcoholic beverage Orange Dream is very sweet and not entirely delicious. Milky based beverages are often a mistake.

However, I'm slightly inebriated right now, so it's doing it's job.

I feel like ass grabbing is in order tonight. You can grab mine or I can grab yours. Mutual grabbing would be fine.

Rambling. Barely Coherent. Feel free to ignore.

Weird night. I'm unable to properly articulate my feelings on most occasions and this is no different but bear with me nonetheless. Earlier it really felt like I was in a dream where people were doing odd things all around me.

Barb is going to a pirate themed party tonight and was thus walking around unusually dressed and trying to fashion and earring for himself out of a clip and a magnifying glass rim. Jo's attempting to fix her hair and was walking around with shampoo in her hair that had foamed blue and had shaped her hair into a Princess Leia/Mugato from Zoolander/boobs on her head sort of monstrosity. Susan was getting ready for a date and Jo and I were offering to chaperone. It being Jo and I, our chaperoning invovled a lot of making out and other restaurant-inappropriate behaviour.

It probably didn't help that I was sitting in the kitchen wearing my winter coat and drinking juice right out of the container. I guess it isn't really that out of the ordinary for our house, but it really struck me tonight.

Apparently I'm going out tonight. There better be dancing and I better be drunk.

"Act like a guy who's got brown hair."

Those were the directions that Jo gave me for this picture. Luckily, I have a great deal of experience being a brunette, 22 years running.

In addition to accurately portraying brunettehood, this picture illustrates my feelings towards a particular prof of mine.

I've been skipping a lot of seminars in this guy's class. I hate seminars...love skipping class...you see where that might be a bad combination. Anyway, he scolded us all about our lack of seminar attendance before the break and got me all worried about my final mark. He made me feel like a child. I HATE that. Sure, I can be really immature and dumb but he doesn't know that as I always come to class on time and ready to learn junk. It's my LAST semester of my undergrad, I'm going to feel free to attend or not attend as I see fit.

Got my midterm back today in that class. 90 percent baby. Thus he can take his seminars and shove them right up his ass.

In a perfect world, the whole tongue thing would be accompanied by a dance of celebration and triumph. Such a dance would probably resemble Chandler's dance of triumph from Friends.

p.s.- check out the new haircut! I love getting my haircut. LOVE.

Addendum to previous post.

I've realized that Jo's not the only one who listens to "My Humps". Thusly, I've decided to expand my previous threat. Anyone caught listening to said song will get the sand-pants treatment.

Seriously, she's singing about her ass and boobs. How is that a song? She's objectifying herself. Example:

what you gonna do with all that junk
all that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.

Good to know that women can be broken down into their body parts and assigned worth accordingly. Finally, Fergbot has managed to cut out the middle man in discrimination! YAY.

I mean, I've hated a lot of songs in my time (Britney Spears, I'm looking at you) but this is just ridiculous. Remember when the Black Eyed Peas had a soul? Remember when they cared about the world in Where is the Love? Admittedly, social commentary could be couched in a more elegant fashion than "Where is the Love?" but it was still better, by about a million light years, than My Humps.

The only thing "My Humps" has going for it is that it's not Holla Back Girl by Gwen Stefani.

End Rant.

I can write rhetorical letters too.

Dear Jo,

If you insist on playing My Humps by the Black Eyed Peas AND watching their music video while I'm in hearing distance I'll have to take steps to remedy the situation.




Step 1: Tell you I'm ashamed of you
Step 2: Shove sand down your pants.

I know, it escalated pretty quickly. But I'm inherently impatient, I don't have time to wait for results.

Love,
Toni

Hangin' with my ladies.

Jo availed herself of my computer this evening while I was reading about medieval Aberdeen and then Jane Austen. Then Subu came in and spread herself out on my bed. I love it when we're all in someone's room doing our own thing but together, occasionally commenting about the oddities of our fields of study and frequenting bemoaning the fact that we have to do work at all (Jo in particular, was worried that her ultra long psych article was going to give her eye cancer. Don't worry, I told her I'd scoop out the cancerous eye with a dull spoon.)

They are my BFF's and I love spending time with them. It just struck me tonight particularly.

Of course, whenever we spend time together there is a certain amount of teasing that goes on. I bore the brunt of it this evening, not without some justification. Here's the thing, I'm kind of neurotic when it comes to new books. With brand new books I've purchased want to be the first person that reads them. I feel strongly about it.

Susan had the misfortune of picking up a book that I bought recently but haven't gotten around to reading yet. I told her I'd murder her in her sleep (or some equally unreasonable threat) if she stole the book and read it before me. In all fairness to me, that's exactly what she did with the penis book. In all fairness to my beloved Susan, however, I reacted like a crackpot and was teased accordingly.

Deatchmatch!

Susan and I are going to have to have a deatchmatch over the Slowly Going Bald dude as I've just visited his blog again and fallen back in fake-internet-love.

Excerpt:
Suggestions Given to me by my boss at my recent annual review:

Stop signing e-mails to my boss with "I wish I knew how to quit you."

Stop cc-ing aforementioned e-mails to the entire company.

Now GO. Just do it. And read the rest of it too.

Susan, I'll meet you outside for Pistols at Dawn. Okay, not dawn, I haven't seen dawn in a fortnight (fortnight = forever). Pistols at 1:30 in the afternoon then.

200th post...awesome or gross? I'm going with gross

Dear Folks,

In the past I've like to things that are funny. And, presumably, you've gone forth and found that this was so. Now I must direct you to a video of epic proportions. Go to Dan's blog, watch this video and laugh your butt off.

Love,
Toni