(no subject)
Though I generally refuse to be the sole contributor to this joint-effort journal, it is my last eight-hour Sunday, presumably (and hopefully, Christ Our Lord and Savior willingly,) ever, and I am choosing to snub any productive work I could be doing (but really, is there any productive work I could be doing?), and instead embark upon an entry that will with any luck end in the letter r (seeing as how it is my favorite).
I have been invited to a departmental barbecue by way of a flyer that ended up on my desk last Wednesday. The crowd-pullers on this particular invite include "on-site grilling" (at a barbecue?!!!? WTF?!!?!!?!!) and "vegetarian fare" which, let's be honest, is going to be potato salad. The thing also goes until 8:30, and I'm really not sure that number one, I'm going to be able to stay up that late, and number two, the shaping body glove that I plan to wear under my two-piece Bulgarian-inspired skirt suit is going to maintain its rapist's grip (inappropriate?) around my midsection post-aforementioned salad consumption. Also, they are letting people bring their children. If I know my department (and I think I do), then there are going to be berets and lesbians and maybe independent music, and I don't think any of that laissez-faire shit is appropriate for children.
Let's segue into what is appropriate, namely films about teens doing whipits. Nitrous Oxide solves all the problems that can't be remedied by flared jeans, glitter lipgloss, and System Of A Down alone. You just don't fuckin' get it.
I have been invited to a departmental barbecue by way of a flyer that ended up on my desk last Wednesday. The crowd-pullers on this particular invite include "on-site grilling" (at a barbecue?!!!? WTF?!!?!!?!!) and "vegetarian fare" which, let's be honest, is going to be potato salad. The thing also goes until 8:30, and I'm really not sure that number one, I'm going to be able to stay up that late, and number two, the shaping body glove that I plan to wear under my two-piece Bulgarian-inspired skirt suit is going to maintain its rapist's grip (inappropriate?) around my midsection post-aforementioned salad consumption. Also, they are letting people bring their children. If I know my department (and I think I do), then there are going to be berets and lesbians and maybe independent music, and I don't think any of that laissez-faire shit is appropriate for children.
Let's segue into what is appropriate, namely films about teens doing whipits. Nitrous Oxide solves all the problems that can't be remedied by flared jeans, glitter lipgloss, and System Of A Down alone. You just don't fuckin' get it.