Ass Kissing, Butt Worms, Cold Showers, D----
I'm back. I'm in one piece. *It* has been impaled through the chest with a stake made from sleep deprivation. Sleep deprivation is a hardy little tree found growing in the Forest of Futility, which is where many professors send their students for summer vacations. I'm a fool. See, I chose this godforsaken summer vacation on my own. And some vacation it has turned out to be. Maybe you would be appreciative of a description of *It*. Here goes.
This weekend, starting Thursday night, actually, I turned off my cell phone. Or put it on silent and left it in my purse. I don't even remember which. By the way, Pandora and Koibito, I'm sorry about missing those calls. I'll reply to them in email when I have posted this. I unplugged (gasp) my cable modem from the wall, and only reconnected when I needed to verify something with my professor or my teammates. Thus cleft from the world outside, I began the arduous journey to the end of the semester.
It began with a presentation on popular culture, which dealt with the difference between social relations and social relationships, and how to deconstruct that difference. Don't worry, the class didn't know either. But it was a riveting discussion as we attempted to prod the answer out of the cosmos. The answer came to me on my drive home Friday evening. This begins the second leg of the journey.
A paper of about five pages was due Monday, so I began to write it. It ended up being six pages, and I learned how to cite class discussions. I also came up with what I hope was a brilliant method of understanding deconstruction, applied it to the relations as a relationship might, and discovered that indeed, we deconstructed the relations by means of popular culture so that we could have our relationships the way we wanted them. But... we can never hope to truly do what we want, because the influence of social relations will always be there. We can only deconstruct from within, because there is no without. Deep. I wrote six pages of this crap. I hope it is as good for her as it was for me. Hell, for that matter, I hope I was right.
Also due Monday was a two hour group presentation on the Turn of the Screw, followed by an analysis of pedagogical difficulties experienced in the crafting of this discussion. This was made difficult by a member of our group, who couldn't make it. The rest of us spent about three hours in an un-airconditioned English building Sunday night, and we came up with a four-page group summary of our presentation and the things we hoped to accomplish in it. We also each came up with an additional four pages apiece on our own section of the presentation, and our problems with it. We emailed the group paper to our absent member.
I'd start this sentence out, "also due Monday...," but I've already started it with, "I'd start this..." So. The meaning is there. For Monday, I had to produce a fine-tuned work for nonfiction class. Pages: 15. I was told in class it should be twenty, but I read the syllabus, and the word count was closer to fifteen. So, you do the math. I'm not stupid. I wrote as much as I could in the time frame and still have it come out well, but I didn't make more work for myself. He probably got confused in class is all. This is the professor who still (after the project is over) wants me to drive to his house ... in the country ... alone ... at night ... to "hunt frogs." In actuality, he wants to go frog hunting. But that's not how anyone else will see it, and even if I *did* feel at all comfortable around him, I wouldn't go to his house in broad daylight. There are certain things you just don't do, and spending hours at night in a secluded place with a professor is one of those things. I thought I'd be finished with this whole invitation after the paper was in, but I think I might have to deal with this for a while. Maybe if it comes up again, I'll just say it sounds inappropriate. He should get the idea then. But hey, maybe it won't come up again at all!
Anyway(s), that was what I did this weekend, in lieu of, say, blogging, checking mail, eating, and all that. Actually, I did eat. I had ramen noodles for lunch every day, and sometimes for dinner. Once I had half a can of refried beans. Wheat Thins don't go well with beans. Try for something else. Just an aside. Feel free to ignore it. You might find the taste rather delightful. You'd be in the minority, I'm sure, but that never stopped Leonardo de Vinci. Maybe with enough beans, you become your own flying machine. I bet he never thought of that.
You're wondering about that title of mine. If not now, then at some point you have wondered about it. It's interesting, isn't it? Ass Kissing, Butt Worms, Cold Showers, D----. Ah. What could I possibly mean by this? If you'll notice, the commas in the title separate four distinct happenings or topics in my life. Each one of these topics begins with a letter of the alphabet, which both directly precedes the first letter of the topic behind it, and comes behind the first letter of the topic before it. Ass Kissing is the exception to this latter rule, since there isn't a topic before starting with "z". I could add zebras, but then there would be the whole alphabet problem. That would make for a long title. No?
I'll start with ass kissing. In my workshop class, a student turned in a paper in which the word "ass-kissing" turned up two or more times per page. Once, he refers to snorting coke from a whore's ass crack. Another time, he refers to a person not needing to check for colon polyps, because someone kissed his ass like a "Guatemalan whore." I am not criticizing this. It was a brilliant paper. I laughed my ass off, to use the word again. Hey people. You were warned in the title. Watch out, 'cause butt worms are next. In fact, you might want to skip the rest of this post if you're not liking it so far. Anyway(s), that is how ass kissing made it into the title.
On to the butt worms. I had not heard of these little guys before today. Unbelievable, huh? We were reminded that, when we break up with someone, we should make it easier on ourselves by thinking that they had worms. The prof left the room while we filled out evaluations, and we contemplated exactly what kinds of worms he had been referring to. Well, we had twenty minutes with this topic, and there were more worms brought up than I can remember. I told them about tapeworms as a diet, where you buy the little guys (they're about the same as rice in size, shape, color), and eat them, then have them removed when you've lost the amount of weight you wanted to lose. We talked about the possibility that those folks with super high metabolisms were just feeding a tapeworm when they ate, and didn't know about it. This gives me ideas for my characters, actually... Very interesting ideas... But we soon moved on from mere tapeworms and talked about butt worms. These little guys live in your anus and come out at night to feed. They're in something you eat, but I'm not too clear on it. According to B--, if you stick a piece of double sided tape around your finger and wiggle it around in your butt at night, you can collect them. I'll be doing some research before I believe this, let me assure you. I can add it to my cannibalism folder, since it sort of belongs together in the realm of the sick and twisted. After butt worms, we talked about worms in pork that grew in your stomach until they started crawling up your esophagus and you had to spit them out. I don't know about these ones either, except that I saw that on X-files once. The professor returned at this point, and we broke out the Wheat Thins. Strangely, no one's appetite was spoiled by the conversation.
And this brings me to cold showers. I was planning taking the world's longest, hottest shower tonight after class, and maybe drinking my wine and reading a newspaper. But after walking across campus to mail something, walking farther to get my paycheck (whoo hoo!), and then walking back, I figured, screw the hot bath. What I need is a cold shower. So I took one. It was great. I enjoyed it immensely. And then I checked my mail, and discovered that my rent was due (another thing that was due Monday, *grumble*), and had to get dressed again to go pay it. I had been planning on bumming around the place buck-naked but no, I had to pay rent. That's okay, though, in the long run, because I only missed out on about fifteen minutes of naked freedom. Being naked is so freeing. There are no restrictions, no limitations, and best of all, if the doorbell *does* ring, you have a reason not to answer it.
Well, by now you think odd things. Don't deny it. After those three, you must be pretty worried about this last one, where I don't even spell it out. I mean, whoa. What can it be that she won't even say? Well, it is a good thing that I don't say it. Because the first letter alone isn't all that bad. I'm going off the premise that someone has drawn the Ouiji card (we're on Yu-gi-oh!, just so you follow me), and is spelling out the five turns left until the spell is released and my life points go to zero. D is the first letter of death. I figure by now, my life is approximately one fifth over, and therefore, one fifth of the word is presented to you. In the end, we all die, so it isn't as morbid as you think. So there.
Well that about covers my title. I've detailed my weekend, I've apologized to those who tried to contact me. By the way, Pandora, thanks for all your comments. They mean a lot to me. And now, I must email people who need emails, and eat dinner. So far, there's a can of pineapple that's looking good. The responsible part of me says I should make something, but the hungry little gremlin wants pineapple. We'll see who wins.
Goodbye for now, people. There shouldn't be a break in the monologue for a while more at least. Hope you liked. End.
This weekend, starting Thursday night, actually, I turned off my cell phone. Or put it on silent and left it in my purse. I don't even remember which. By the way, Pandora and Koibito, I'm sorry about missing those calls. I'll reply to them in email when I have posted this. I unplugged (gasp) my cable modem from the wall, and only reconnected when I needed to verify something with my professor or my teammates. Thus cleft from the world outside, I began the arduous journey to the end of the semester.
It began with a presentation on popular culture, which dealt with the difference between social relations and social relationships, and how to deconstruct that difference. Don't worry, the class didn't know either. But it was a riveting discussion as we attempted to prod the answer out of the cosmos. The answer came to me on my drive home Friday evening. This begins the second leg of the journey.
A paper of about five pages was due Monday, so I began to write it. It ended up being six pages, and I learned how to cite class discussions. I also came up with what I hope was a brilliant method of understanding deconstruction, applied it to the relations as a relationship might, and discovered that indeed, we deconstructed the relations by means of popular culture so that we could have our relationships the way we wanted them. But... we can never hope to truly do what we want, because the influence of social relations will always be there. We can only deconstruct from within, because there is no without. Deep. I wrote six pages of this crap. I hope it is as good for her as it was for me. Hell, for that matter, I hope I was right.
Also due Monday was a two hour group presentation on the Turn of the Screw, followed by an analysis of pedagogical difficulties experienced in the crafting of this discussion. This was made difficult by a member of our group, who couldn't make it. The rest of us spent about three hours in an un-airconditioned English building Sunday night, and we came up with a four-page group summary of our presentation and the things we hoped to accomplish in it. We also each came up with an additional four pages apiece on our own section of the presentation, and our problems with it. We emailed the group paper to our absent member.
I'd start this sentence out, "also due Monday...," but I've already started it with, "I'd start this..." So. The meaning is there. For Monday, I had to produce a fine-tuned work for nonfiction class. Pages: 15. I was told in class it should be twenty, but I read the syllabus, and the word count was closer to fifteen. So, you do the math. I'm not stupid. I wrote as much as I could in the time frame and still have it come out well, but I didn't make more work for myself. He probably got confused in class is all. This is the professor who still (after the project is over) wants me to drive to his house ... in the country ... alone ... at night ... to "hunt frogs." In actuality, he wants to go frog hunting. But that's not how anyone else will see it, and even if I *did* feel at all comfortable around him, I wouldn't go to his house in broad daylight. There are certain things you just don't do, and spending hours at night in a secluded place with a professor is one of those things. I thought I'd be finished with this whole invitation after the paper was in, but I think I might have to deal with this for a while. Maybe if it comes up again, I'll just say it sounds inappropriate. He should get the idea then. But hey, maybe it won't come up again at all!
Anyway(s), that was what I did this weekend, in lieu of, say, blogging, checking mail, eating, and all that. Actually, I did eat. I had ramen noodles for lunch every day, and sometimes for dinner. Once I had half a can of refried beans. Wheat Thins don't go well with beans. Try for something else. Just an aside. Feel free to ignore it. You might find the taste rather delightful. You'd be in the minority, I'm sure, but that never stopped Leonardo de Vinci. Maybe with enough beans, you become your own flying machine. I bet he never thought of that.
You're wondering about that title of mine. If not now, then at some point you have wondered about it. It's interesting, isn't it? Ass Kissing, Butt Worms, Cold Showers, D----. Ah. What could I possibly mean by this? If you'll notice, the commas in the title separate four distinct happenings or topics in my life. Each one of these topics begins with a letter of the alphabet, which both directly precedes the first letter of the topic behind it, and comes behind the first letter of the topic before it. Ass Kissing is the exception to this latter rule, since there isn't a topic before starting with "z". I could add zebras, but then there would be the whole alphabet problem. That would make for a long title. No?
I'll start with ass kissing. In my workshop class, a student turned in a paper in which the word "ass-kissing" turned up two or more times per page. Once, he refers to snorting coke from a whore's ass crack. Another time, he refers to a person not needing to check for colon polyps, because someone kissed his ass like a "Guatemalan whore." I am not criticizing this. It was a brilliant paper. I laughed my ass off, to use the word again. Hey people. You were warned in the title. Watch out, 'cause butt worms are next. In fact, you might want to skip the rest of this post if you're not liking it so far. Anyway(s), that is how ass kissing made it into the title.
On to the butt worms. I had not heard of these little guys before today. Unbelievable, huh? We were reminded that, when we break up with someone, we should make it easier on ourselves by thinking that they had worms. The prof left the room while we filled out evaluations, and we contemplated exactly what kinds of worms he had been referring to. Well, we had twenty minutes with this topic, and there were more worms brought up than I can remember. I told them about tapeworms as a diet, where you buy the little guys (they're about the same as rice in size, shape, color), and eat them, then have them removed when you've lost the amount of weight you wanted to lose. We talked about the possibility that those folks with super high metabolisms were just feeding a tapeworm when they ate, and didn't know about it. This gives me ideas for my characters, actually... Very interesting ideas... But we soon moved on from mere tapeworms and talked about butt worms. These little guys live in your anus and come out at night to feed. They're in something you eat, but I'm not too clear on it. According to B--, if you stick a piece of double sided tape around your finger and wiggle it around in your butt at night, you can collect them. I'll be doing some research before I believe this, let me assure you. I can add it to my cannibalism folder, since it sort of belongs together in the realm of the sick and twisted. After butt worms, we talked about worms in pork that grew in your stomach until they started crawling up your esophagus and you had to spit them out. I don't know about these ones either, except that I saw that on X-files once. The professor returned at this point, and we broke out the Wheat Thins. Strangely, no one's appetite was spoiled by the conversation.
And this brings me to cold showers. I was planning taking the world's longest, hottest shower tonight after class, and maybe drinking my wine and reading a newspaper. But after walking across campus to mail something, walking farther to get my paycheck (whoo hoo!), and then walking back, I figured, screw the hot bath. What I need is a cold shower. So I took one. It was great. I enjoyed it immensely. And then I checked my mail, and discovered that my rent was due (another thing that was due Monday, *grumble*), and had to get dressed again to go pay it. I had been planning on bumming around the place buck-naked but no, I had to pay rent. That's okay, though, in the long run, because I only missed out on about fifteen minutes of naked freedom. Being naked is so freeing. There are no restrictions, no limitations, and best of all, if the doorbell *does* ring, you have a reason not to answer it.
Well, by now you think odd things. Don't deny it. After those three, you must be pretty worried about this last one, where I don't even spell it out. I mean, whoa. What can it be that she won't even say? Well, it is a good thing that I don't say it. Because the first letter alone isn't all that bad. I'm going off the premise that someone has drawn the Ouiji card (we're on Yu-gi-oh!, just so you follow me), and is spelling out the five turns left until the spell is released and my life points go to zero. D is the first letter of death. I figure by now, my life is approximately one fifth over, and therefore, one fifth of the word is presented to you. In the end, we all die, so it isn't as morbid as you think. So there.
Well that about covers my title. I've detailed my weekend, I've apologized to those who tried to contact me. By the way, Pandora, thanks for all your comments. They mean a lot to me. And now, I must email people who need emails, and eat dinner. So far, there's a can of pineapple that's looking good. The responsible part of me says I should make something, but the hungry little gremlin wants pineapple. We'll see who wins.
Goodbye for now, people. There shouldn't be a break in the monologue for a while more at least. Hope you liked. End.
posted by Rehkmira @ 19:25
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