Crass Musing of the Day

I don't know if you all are aware of the rampant problem of exposed, shaven celebrity crotches. But L. has opened my eyes to this world where young, sexualized women "innocently" exit their SUVs and simultaneously give us a peek of their privates. I don't really care that they don't wear underwear. I'm just kind of freaked out by how Brazilian everyone is these days. So I'm wondering how the fad of pre-pubescent bush-lessness -- sexualized pre-pubescence, in a word -- relates to the hysteria surrounding child pornography (this issue is esp. out of control in CA.) Seriously, Britney's unmentionable has been haunting me, and it's scary. I'm scared.

T-day

Back from Sacramento where, as every good Thanksgiving should provide, we ate slept and watched TV. And cooed at the baby who, in his still ineffable seven-week stage, acts like any good Thanksgiving participant -- sleeping, eating, pooping. There was more drool than is usually accepted for grown-up T-dayers. But, we allowed it.
Here's the food:


And here's the general reaction:




Unwarranted, in my opinion. I thought the meal was delicious. Cornish Game Hens, Roasted Root Veggies, Stuffing, Salad.

Have I mentioned how much I love thanksgiving? I do! There are no requirements other than an appetite. No songs, no prayers, no mention of swaddling clothes or talking animals. Just food.

TA-day

So, section kinda sucked today. They didn't talk . . . which makes me talk too much. In a not very illuminating fashion. Often, I feel, the students leave more confused than when they arrived.
Then I come home, slightly addled about the silent section, but mostly relieved that it's over. And also annoyingly attached to every word I said, scrutinizing sentences, re-evaluating my performance. So that, of course, after my bus ride home, I run inside to post an email to my students with the insights I wished I'd stunned them with during class. But then after I send that email, I realize that i didn't quite get to everything I wanted to say. which, for a crazy person, would warrant another email. but not me. I'm too cool for that, if you couldn't already tell. Instead I drag my ass to Trader Joe's to buy a cheap bottle of wine or vodka.
This week's section is in the past. My weekend starts Tuesday night!

Antique R.S.

Last weekend, Dave and I took our zombie asses out to San Francisco to unwind for an evening. It was very lovely. My face was a zombie wreck, but we sat back and relaxed and had a great time. The next day, we went to Alameda . . .


i like interiors


dave likes to think


k. thinks antiques are fun

Woman or Mechanized Female Non-Being?

I've been feeling like a humanoid lately. It has become more and more difficult to believe that I am actually capable of having a normal conversation, light and funny, with people. So I start to think about times in the not too distant past when I would laugh and make other people laugh. Now, I'm not a very warm or friendly person . . . it's true. I'm kinda prickly. But, once I get to know ya, I'm a fucking laugh a minute.

Of course, none of this is entirely true. I'm neither that prickly nor that funny.

But it is true that I am becoming a humanoid. Or a zombie that wants to eat brains. Delicious brains.