Awkward Attractions and Awkward... Repulsions
Today, we read some Catullus in Latin. Grebe went off on one of her Roman history tangents and it was as delectable as ever.
Catullus had some issues. Some very serious, pressing issues, one of which involving him becoming jealous of a sparrow to whom his mistress Lesbia paid too much attention. Let's just say that passer mortuus est and leave it at that. Later today, I found myself trying to imitate Grebe's accent while in the shower. No, I do not have some twisted student attraction to her. She always has this awkward, clenched grin.
Laurent called tonight and there were a couple times when I wanted to hurt myself in such a way that I would be distracted from the frustration involved in talking to him. Last week, he went on about his A+ on the first history essay despite that "he doesn't know English". This was right after I told him about my B+. And by the way, he does know English. Very well. Just trust me on that. During that encounter with him, he also brought up his cuisine, and how he only cooks French dishes. I asked him "Oh, what dishes are they?" and he replied that I "wouldn't be able to understand the names if he tried to say them in English" to which I responded by asking, "What are the French names?" He reasserted that I wouldn't understand them and left it at that. Finally, I asked "What do they consist of then?" and that was the day I learned that Laurent makes dishes with "Potatoes... peas... broccoli... butter..." He certainly witheld his pretention this time around, however, until he made sure to affirm that no French writer has ever employed any sexual undertones in writing about God, while it seems that there are English writers that do so, among them Margery Kempe (who isn't actually a writer, but dictated to a priest who wrote it down nonetheless) and John Donne.
I heard this joke a couple of weeks ago in my Greek class: What happened after women gained the right to vote? ...The Great Depression! Ahahahaha! To that I would reply that true, the Great Depression did follow the success of suffrage, however, it was caused not by the newly granted rights themselves, but by the fact that men still had theirs. I exempt myself from this, of course, and some other men, of which there are precious few. Seriously, I wonder if there are any man-hating feminists who actually are men. If there aren't, I may be the first.
Last night, I discovered a poster for last year's plays. Featured on it is a photograph of an absolutely sexable dude by the name of... Third Year English Major. He's fairly tall, thin, with almost white-blonde hair and wears the tightest jeans ever that cut off just below his knees. In some ways, he might even be considered sickly, but nonetheless, I'd do him, sic aut non.
I am so very excited to go home. Friday eve for sure. I shall be seeing Tarra on Saturday when I drive to Laurier. Really haven't seen my homies from home, and consequently, I am sad.