I never said I WASN’T interesting
Armed with a french press and a resolve to kick this thesis’ ass, here I sit at the coffee house, surrounded by my fellow students who are feeling the hot breath of end of the semester deadlines on their pasty white necks. Now, I can’t complain too much about my thesis. I do, after all, enjoy writing. And my research on this paper has taken me to some interesting places. Research subjects include search terms such as:
Fifty Shades of Grey sex kits
ben wah balls
sexuality in fairy tales
Sure, sure. I hear what you’re saying. What’s the big deal? Sounds like a typical night at my house.
I can honestly say I am so totally over Fifty Shades of Grey. The writing of the novel alone makes me want to drill a hole in my frontal lobe and perform a self lobotomy. Sweet fancy moses. I could go on, but I have to save it all for my thesis. Which is academic. Which means I can’t write stuff like, “HOLY HELL, ANATASIA. I WAS ALL, ‘RUN, BITCH, RUN!’ WHEN I READ THIS.” I have to write fancy titled sections like Sexually Violent Imagery and Male Aggression.
I also ate a cheeseburger last night before bed and had fantastic dreams. One was a commercial – a literal commercial for chemical vasectomies. For men. Like, injections for men to get at their doctors’ office. And the tag line? You’ll go nuts for this!
Sometimes I wonder why I’m not an inventor. Or a marketing genius.
But then I also had a dream that my (deceased) grandfather was having a heart attack and I gave him CPR, which then turned him into a monkey. I have no words for this. And on an unrelated note, I think we can all agree that my crippling addiction to sugarfree Red Bull will contribute to the fact that I will be late to every class in the next week or so.
You’re welcome, academia.