You have no womb. Where would you gestate it? Keep it in a box?

I watched most of Monty Python's Life of Brian this afternoon while spending an hour with Colleen's the flatiron trying to burn the oil into my hair in an effort to make it halfway presentable. I think it worked, but I burned my forehead and my back is killing me.

Anyway, the quote was funny.



So you know my entry yesterday? Well, in an effort to avoid the Asian-American history flashcards (Do you know who enjoys the whole internment thing less than the Japanese? ME, THAT'S WHO.) and the feminist crap I have to summarize by Monday (Shut up, it weighs on me, dammit.), I followed some of the links. And apparently, it's a thing. I can't believe I didn't ever notice this, because I read that blog, and this kind of hilarity is right up my little alley!!!

Now, I can't comment on the women other than to say, um, no, no, they're certainly not.

But the guys? I can't imagine a situation where it would ever come up, but even if I was, oh, involved in a drunken Dork version of "marry, *insert inappropriate term for coitus here*, or push off a cliff"? Um, like at least three or four of them are going off the damn cliff. I don't care what the rules are.

So despite the fact that my marriage prospects are significantly less attractive in the law school route (I don't care what Colleen says, Indiana Jones was an archaeologist and THAT'S CLOSE TO ART HISTORY DAMMIT!!!), *I* become considerably more attractive.

Hmmm. I shall have to weigh this in my decision.



I finally got Boom! Voice from the Sixties from the library, only a semester after I ordered it, but that's okay because I heart the sixties in all of their crazy glory, so I'm going to go read that and pretend that my parents' generation didn't irreparably harm my country and civilization.