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"Excuse me, do you have a minute for the ACLU?"
"Excuse me, do you have a minute for the ACLU?"
"Excuse me, do you have a minute for the ACLU?"
THE HELL I HAVE A SECOND FOR YOU MORONS! The damn ACLU least of all. Gah, trying to make your way past BruinWalk at noon is like trying to swim through a swamp full of leeches. They latch on no matter how skillfully you try to avoid them, then they're nearly impossible and very painful to pull off. Not to mention the usual cluster of protestors (why don't THEY pay the tomato pickers themselves?!), Bush-bashing posters (damn public universities and their "free speech" students), and frat boy fliers (is there a day where there *isn't* a party?).
I also had a dumb dream. I dreamt Angela and I were working backstage at a convention center, and Natalie Imbruglia was there as a guest (or to torture me, more likely). She came over and asked us if we had seen her bunny shirt. Yes, bunny shirt. As she described it, "It's a big shirt, with bunnies!" She proceeded to rub blandly in my face that "I wear it to bed. My boyfriend likes it!" Evil woman, trying to provoke me into violence! So I asked her sarcastically, "Lenny Kravitz?" and she answered all cheerily, "No, he's my ex!" at which Angela said to her, "You just don't get it, do you?" Then later in the dream, I learned that she and Daniel had decided to turn to ice dancing, and they both had these extravagantly hideous white costumes with large blue ruffles. Yes, Natalie Imbruglia has turned to ice dancing. Then my alarm woke me up, with a perfectly timed rendition of... guess what song? Yes, "Torn." From the beginning, neatly. I am beset by the ironies of my life.
In happier news, Greg finally taught me how to flick. It's weird using your sword like a whip instead, but I got tired of being the only one who couldn't flick (while being flicked by everyone else). Still, I've got a hard time imagining musketeers running around the streets of Paris using their rapiers as whips on each other.
*mental image*
Wow. Yeah.
"Excuse me, do you have a minute for the ACLU?"
"Excuse me, do you have a minute for the ACLU?"
THE HELL I HAVE A SECOND FOR YOU MORONS! The damn ACLU least of all. Gah, trying to make your way past BruinWalk at noon is like trying to swim through a swamp full of leeches. They latch on no matter how skillfully you try to avoid them, then they're nearly impossible and very painful to pull off. Not to mention the usual cluster of protestors (why don't THEY pay the tomato pickers themselves?!), Bush-bashing posters (damn public universities and their "free speech" students), and frat boy fliers (is there a day where there *isn't* a party?).
I also had a dumb dream. I dreamt Angela and I were working backstage at a convention center, and Natalie Imbruglia was there as a guest (or to torture me, more likely). She came over and asked us if we had seen her bunny shirt. Yes, bunny shirt. As she described it, "It's a big shirt, with bunnies!" She proceeded to rub blandly in my face that "I wear it to bed. My boyfriend likes it!" Evil woman, trying to provoke me into violence! So I asked her sarcastically, "Lenny Kravitz?" and she answered all cheerily, "No, he's my ex!" at which Angela said to her, "You just don't get it, do you?" Then later in the dream, I learned that she and Daniel had decided to turn to ice dancing, and they both had these extravagantly hideous white costumes with large blue ruffles. Yes, Natalie Imbruglia has turned to ice dancing. Then my alarm woke me up, with a perfectly timed rendition of... guess what song? Yes, "Torn." From the beginning, neatly. I am beset by the ironies of my life.
In happier news, Greg finally taught me how to flick. It's weird using your sword like a whip instead, but I got tired of being the only one who couldn't flick (while being flicked by everyone else). Still, I've got a hard time imagining musketeers running around the streets of Paris using their rapiers as whips on each other.
*mental image*
Wow. Yeah.
