Rocky Whores in Picture Show
Oh dear God. What the hell was that movie? Honestly, I have only half an idea of what actually happened in it because the point of the showing was to make fun of it and yell out shit the entire time. This is not a complaint, of course, because it made it all extremely hilarious. Also, I have no idea what the main characters' names were because each had a sub-name we screamed out instead: Asshole and Slut. Slut was funny, but I could have skipped Asshole (especially his sex scene with Frankfurter (sp?)! It was a tad too graphic for me.). Rocky looked pretty good, too, which was nice since everyone else looked freaky. The humpback guy made me ill.
So, yeah, interesting movie. An interesting experience overall, actually. Generally, I try not to criticize movies in that sort of way. If I like a movie, I don't rag on it; if I don't like it, I never watch it. This Rocky Horror experience inspires me to find a crap movie to berate mercilessly with all my friends because positive activities like that strengthen bonds, damn it.
I nearly died laughing in Humanities yesterday. I forgot to mention it because I told my friend Kenny about it, and once I tell a story to someone else, I forget to tell it elsewhere. So I enter Hum class to find it incredibly warm. Three times as warm as usual, so I immediately discarded my hoody. As he begins teaching, the professor notes the uncharacteristic temperature and removes his blazer. He instructed us to discuss Plato in groups, and then we all shared our personal conclusions. I turn to look at my scholarly adviser, and not only is he sitting cross-legged on his desk as he sometimes does, he is also without shoes. Apparently, the room was so warm that he had to take them off. It was hysterical, and it made him more endearing somehow. He does such strange things and doesn't even stop to think about them. Actually, several people at Centre are like that. Before I came I never noticed how many weirdos attend Centre. All of my friends are very quirky, and I identify with them because we all share it.
Speaking of weird things, I have another funny friend! His name is Dan, and he has organized a new club on campus called L.A.R.P., acronym for Live Action Role-Playing. Basically, members dress up as their self-created character and run around beating the shit out of each other with "safe" weapons. Dan's really into it, going so far as to build really awesome props for people. Personally, I don't know if I want to physically partake just yet, but I did offer to do camera work possibly. Whether I'll have the time disrupts this, but hopefully not too much. Someday, my affiliation with this club could really stand out on an application. Sweet.
Oh! Another bit of happy news. By this time next week, I should have a car. Not the new one my dad owes me (we made a deal), but his old car as a temporary replacement. Since the accident I have been driving, and while I have no trouble in the city, the highway freaks me out. I don't hyperventilate or anything, but I start to do really stupid stuff such as accelerating without realizing and looking in the rearview mirror for unnecessarily long periods of time. My mom attributes my discomfort to Post Traumatic Stress, but I think that's a bit of an overstatement. If I really had PTSD, I wouldn't be able to deal with being in a car at all. That, or I'd cry whenever I am in one.
Ah! Molly's back! G'bye!
So, yeah, interesting movie. An interesting experience overall, actually. Generally, I try not to criticize movies in that sort of way. If I like a movie, I don't rag on it; if I don't like it, I never watch it. This Rocky Horror experience inspires me to find a crap movie to berate mercilessly with all my friends because positive activities like that strengthen bonds, damn it.
I nearly died laughing in Humanities yesterday. I forgot to mention it because I told my friend Kenny about it, and once I tell a story to someone else, I forget to tell it elsewhere. So I enter Hum class to find it incredibly warm. Three times as warm as usual, so I immediately discarded my hoody. As he begins teaching, the professor notes the uncharacteristic temperature and removes his blazer. He instructed us to discuss Plato in groups, and then we all shared our personal conclusions. I turn to look at my scholarly adviser, and not only is he sitting cross-legged on his desk as he sometimes does, he is also without shoes. Apparently, the room was so warm that he had to take them off. It was hysterical, and it made him more endearing somehow. He does such strange things and doesn't even stop to think about them. Actually, several people at Centre are like that. Before I came I never noticed how many weirdos attend Centre. All of my friends are very quirky, and I identify with them because we all share it.
Speaking of weird things, I have another funny friend! His name is Dan, and he has organized a new club on campus called L.A.R.P., acronym for Live Action Role-Playing. Basically, members dress up as their self-created character and run around beating the shit out of each other with "safe" weapons. Dan's really into it, going so far as to build really awesome props for people. Personally, I don't know if I want to physically partake just yet, but I did offer to do camera work possibly. Whether I'll have the time disrupts this, but hopefully not too much. Someday, my affiliation with this club could really stand out on an application. Sweet.
Oh! Another bit of happy news. By this time next week, I should have a car. Not the new one my dad owes me (we made a deal), but his old car as a temporary replacement. Since the accident I have been driving, and while I have no trouble in the city, the highway freaks me out. I don't hyperventilate or anything, but I start to do really stupid stuff such as accelerating without realizing and looking in the rearview mirror for unnecessarily long periods of time. My mom attributes my discomfort to Post Traumatic Stress, but I think that's a bit of an overstatement. If I really had PTSD, I wouldn't be able to deal with being in a car at all. That, or I'd cry whenever I am in one.
Ah! Molly's back! G'bye!