Sing it, Sinead. I do so love that bald lesbian minister. She rocks my world. I just heard this song as--brace yourself--a ringtone. Is it just me, or are ringtones getting entirely too obnoxious for human comprehension? Whatever happened to "ring, ring?" Now it seems that if you don't have Ride of the Valkyries or your new favorite Jessica Simpson song to disturb everyone in your immediate environs, you have been snacking on dog "nuggets" and brain tumors. Today a Korean student was at the front desk and his ring tone was actually a real song, with real words. It was CD quality. It won't be long before these things just say, "Hey. Loser. Your best friend is calling. Pick up, moron."
*steps down off of soap box; small bow*
It's overcast and looking like it's not going to even try to remedy that. That's fine: Indiana heat presses on you like hearthstones and makes you want to move to Nunavut. I'll never have a pimple again: I sweat from every possible pore, 24-7. (Ok, so maybe that isn't the most pleasant image; what can I say? Like the Delphic sibyll, I speak only the truth).
I'm in a cramped little computer cluster in the nation's largest (so I have been told) Student Union building. It's dank, it smells funny, and the line to get in goes all the way back to Terre Haute (oblique reference to A Christmas Story). I always like to see what people are doing in here. Most are working like dogs to finish the paper that they should have been doing for weeks and neglected; nine times out of ten the network crashes and the gutteral howls that issue forth from these sad creatures is like the sound of the banshee, wailing over the moors. Both mean someone is going to die. In this case, it's academic death, and to some people that is far more fear-worthy than the actual corporal one. Anyway, the young lady beside me is shopping for--get this--Hello Kitty merchandise. I don't get it. I mean, I don't have to get it--believe you me, when I tell people I have more than 80 masks from 17 countries, that elicits a strong response--but Hello Kitty? Oh my. I saw a shirt once--a baby tee--that had Hello Kitty with x'es for eyes and a bleeding bullet-hole in her forehead. It said "Goodbye Kitty." I giggled like a schoolgirl.
Ok, so now you all think I am an insensitive freak who advocates the slaughter of our feline friends. Far from it! How I love and miss my cat at home, Po. Po is the most bizarre cat who has ever lived. I and my sister picked her out for my mother simply because, of all the rest of the kittens, she was the one who acted the most like a Potorti. She was eating her own tail until it hurt, and then she would stop, forget that eating her tail hurt a lot, and then resume. Then she passed out as if she had been shot with a tranquilizer dart. Her name is Po because her markings are tortoiseshell--abbreviated "torti"--and we are the POtortis. It works. We also be po'. My sister and I horse around and say that her theme-song is the Friday the 13th theme. You all know the one. Jason is about to vivisect some scantily-clad coed, when you hear:
Chh-chh-chh-chh
Ah ah ah ah ah
I just ate some Chinese food, courtesy of Chris Viers (Dean of International Programs), and if there was any justice in the world I would be able to go home and bed myself properly. As it is, I have jihad class AND a French exam.
*Side note on French: HATING it.*
C'est la vie. Eww, there I go, using it! Wrong, so wrong! Give me the dulcet, melodious sounds of Turkish! Turkish, which actually makes sense! Turkish, where every word is writted EXACTLY how it is pronounced! Turkish... well, I just adore it. I guess I should back off before I get stabby.
I will try to post again tonight and let the earth know just how badly I bomb my French exam. It should be Chernobyl-worthy.
Kendine cok iyi bak,
Dom
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