Oh. My. GOD!
I really hate that one grrl in my class. Today she alternated between sleeping through the class and passing notes to her friend about how utterly boring the class was, and how little she respected our professor. If that’s the case, drop the class, sit in the back, or FUCK OFF. It’s not a grad level class, so if you find some of the questions “remedial-level,” tough shit – because not everyone in the class has had the education you’ve had (or think you’ve had, since you so frequently make wrong or irrelevent comments). AUGH. Plus, the professor is an anthropologist, so of course some of the stuff she’s interested in examining or discussing isn’t going to be exactly what someone from a different discipline would expect.
Whatever. I enjoyed today’s lecture, despite the fact that that grrl was sitting next to me. I’ve got to stop sitting where I’ve been sitting, I think. Although, really, if you’re going to sleep and pass notes, why sit in the very front row?
Okay, so I just found out the new VK is out. But after reading the review over at The Black Stitch, I am soooo not looking forward to it. Bleah.
Also, where the fuck is my copy of the new Rebecca issue?! If I recall correctly, it takes the nice lady I get it from a while to get all her “subscriptions” in order and mail them out, so I think it might show up around February or something – but whatever, it’s fucking killing me, having to wait. I am so impatient. Rebecca is the good shit, okay? And I want it NOW!
If you’ve noticed there haven’t been like ANY pictures lately, it’s because I’m about out of space where I’ve been hosting them. (I don’t even begin to know how to make that better grammatically, so fuck it.) And I’m really dragging my feet about trying Photobucket or anything else, because, at least when I’m surfing Craftster, it looks like it only actually works (ie – shows a picture) half the time, or less than that. Yeesh. Anyway. I’ll probably be messing around with a new photo host later tonight, so we’ll see how that works out.
Friday night, Greg and I went to bed at eight, to “take a nap.” Yeah, not so much. We slept until ten Saturday morning. Crazy. Then yesterday, Ms. Films ladies (Niku, Krista, Juliette, Amanda, and Viola) came over and we attempted some screenprinting. Our screens and frame really just weren’t feeling it, though, so it was kinda a bust yesterday. But it was fun hanging out and working on it! (Greg and I are going to fix the issues and do the screenprinting this week – or, maybe I should say Greg is, since he has more screenprinting experience than I do, so I’ll just be an assistant.) Eric came over later in the evening to hang out, and we played Carcassonne, which Greg won. And today I’m trying to decide whether I’d rather deep-condition my hair (it’s pretty fried lately) or dye it. The dye I’ve got in mind appears to be pretty gentle, but who knows. Fun stuff.
Holy shit.
I was looking for an image of a kidney stone, since I keep straining my piss and have yet to see one. (I feel like I should pass a ruby at this point, after all the effort and pain.) Anyway, I stumbled across a blog by another Durham womyn about her stones and holy fucking shit. It’s horrific. It tooks DAYS for her to pass a stone – and she coped with it much better than I ever would. I would be a snotting, crying, hysterical mess. Anyway, if you’re interested, here’s the link.
I have the weirdest dreams when I stay home sick.
I just dreamt that Skeeter was a duckling. And then over the course of the dream, he grew fur (like he has in real life – same coloring and shit) and rabbit ears – but was still part duckling. And then it turned out he was made of dough and cheese (even though he was a live duckling-rabbit-cat) so everyone wanted to cut him up and eat him. And then he turned into a playdough duckling-rabbit-cat, so everyone left him alone after that – except they had already cut him in half. But since he was made from playdough, I just mooshed him back together and he was good as new.
Fucking weird.
Well, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning (~3:15) and discovered that the “it’s-a-muscle-spasm-not-kidney-stones” doctor was absolutely right (at least about it not being kidney stones) – because I had another kidney stone – no mistaking it – and it was definitely hurting in a different place (ie, around my kidneys, and not around the top back of my hips). And I remembered clearly that this was also what the first thing had felt like. So apparently, first thing was a kidney stone, then a whole slew of muscle spasms (or something), and then a kidney stone last night. The best part of my kidney stone last night was not going to the hospital, and passing it in relative peace at home. But it took my last hardcore painkiller, so I’ll probably be shuffling out to the doctor’s to beg for more. Because I really don’t want to go back to the stupid hospital for a kidney stone unless I absolutely have to. Like, if I start passing enough blood that I can see it. Or if I pass out from the pain and Greg has to carry me to the hospital. Although, if I’m passed out, really, I should stay there unconscious until it’s over. Yeah. Anyway. I am so freaking tired.
If you didn’t know, now you know: Ida B. Wells-Barnett is the muffinfucking* BOMB! We watched Ida B. Wells: a passion for justice (a documentary by William Greaves, available through California Newsreel, and if your library doesn’t have it, make them get it!) today in my Black Women in America class, and oh my goddess, she is my new hero! She never backed down. She is the awesomest! She is badass and righteous! I am SO MAD that I never heard about her before today in any of my classes (and my wimmin’s studies major classes, I’m looking particularly at y’all). And I’m SO MAD at that stupid wimmin’s studies major (the one I’ve complained about before**) because she TOOK A NAP through most of it. And then had the gall to make a comment about stuff covered in the first five minutes of the film to make it look like she hadn’t slept through it. Who can sleep through Ida B. Wells’s stone home awesomeness? An asshole, that’s who. Whatever. I’m making a gripload of Ida-inspired tshirts first chance I get and passing them out. And I’ve got a full Bull’s Head card I’ve been trying to decide what to put towards – you buy ten books, they average the prices, and you get that much credit towards more books – and I’m using it towards Ida’s autobiography! Yeah buddy. I am so JAZZED after that class!
Also, Jenn pointed out that I neglected to post links to the X-men 3 teaser. I figured I was late to the party, and that everyone else already knew about it. My mistake. Here is a link. Mwah!
*Emilie Autumn recently coined this term, and I have adopted it, since I am a pottymouth and troubled by the implications of the term “motherfucker” even though I use it alot. So, I’m subbing in “muffinfucker.” Problem solved. Love.
**Of course there are other wimmin’s studies majors in this class. But they don’t irritate me. So any time I refer to “that wimmin’s studies major,” I’m talking about that one asshole, unless I say otherwise. Except that I’d probably call the cool people in my class by their names, because I wouldn’t be worried about them finding their way here and getting insulted (since I wouldn’t be bitching about them, since they are cool). So there you go.
…And I just saw the announcement teaser for X-men 3. (Thanks, Sumi!)
Holy. Fucking. Shit!
BAD!ASS!
It looks like I’m finally going to like Jean Grey. Beast looks awesome. And Kitty Pryde is Treena from Trailer Park Boys. (On a side note, what the fuck was Maggie Grace thinking, turning down Kitty Pryde?)
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
If you need me, I’ll just be over here squeeing all day.
You have no idea how excited I am about Ultraviolet. I’m so Milla’s bitch. I’m listening to some of her demos right now – they’re pretty gritty (they *are* demos, though), but I’m enjoying the hell out of them.
Saturday night, we went to the Reservoir to help Danyele celebrate her birthday. I had a grapefruit juice and vodka (I know it has a name, I just can’t be bothered to remember it), and then – oh gods – I had a Red Bull and vodka, on Methusiak’s recommendation, as I was complaining of being tired. That is the devil’s drink. It fucked me up hard. I’d never had a Red Bull before, and I’m not having one ever again, and I strongly advise you not to go anywhere near a Red Bull and vodka if you value your sanity. It was a drunk unlike any drunk I’ve ever experienced, and it verged on making me panic, I felt so weird and so very fucked up (but not in a good way). And then Sunday I was hungover. HUNGOVER. Are you fucking kidding me, Red Bull? Damn.
I finished a panta (from the pattern on craftster.org – which is down at the moment, or I’d give you a phat link), and it’s pretty cute. It keeps my hair out of my face, so that’s a success in my book. I’ll put pictures up soon. I also started the book organization project, but didn’t finish. I’m up to the Cs, though, and we have a fuckload of books.
So, I just saw a commercial for a financial planning company that’s part of a credit card company (like, the credit card company would be the parent company, if I understood the one sentence reference correctly). What I want to know is, if credit card companies make their money (and they do make ridiculous amounts of money) by keeping people in debt, then how can we trust a financial planning company they own to help us keep our money and make more? I know there’s plenty about finances that I don’t understand, but credit card companies and financial planning seem to be at cross-purposes.
