| some brews with the boys. |
[Jan. 30th, 2003|11:57 pm] |
I ran around campus madly this morning, trying to print out the three pages of ranting that I'd written up for Women and Violence. (I just realized that I'm still running on five hours of sleep from last night.) When I stay up until four in the morning to write something, it'd really be nice to have a printer so I don't have to run out to the math lab to print it. Feh. At least the instructor seemed impressed by the volume of notes. Oh, there will be more.
She'd lost her voice, so we watched a documentary about women's oppression at the hands of tradition, mostly in the third world. The class nearly giggled when a villager in Togo stated that if a baby is touched by a clitoris during birth, it will die. (Those evil clitori!) The class did not giggle when an elderly woman was shown excising said evil clitoris from a very, very upset infant.
No one in my Compilers class knew who Strong Bad was. No one! Damn it, it's not funny if no one but me knows that the instructor would be perfect in Mexican wrestling mask and boxing gloves! The bagel place usually in that building has relocated to a different one, and so I made do without my bagel. It's slightly humiliating to have the guy next to me ask if I'd had any interesting dreams during my nap. It's just as well; the Numerical Methods instructor could win out over a half-dozen "No-Doz".
I was sore at jujutsu. The creakiness from Tuesday hadn't worn off, so I was in a low-energy place. Nicole has dropped out (work), so Alexis is there by her lonesome. She was partnerless when we did partnered squats (the kind you do with someone piggybacking you), so Sensei paired me with her. I wouldn't tell her my mass, just gave her quiet encouragement while she was cursing me. She did all of them, and then I told her how much of me she'd been squatting. She growled... but later, at halftime, she told me how proud she was of herself. I have a warm fuzzy.
Chris, at halftime, asked if she was that "other girl", the one from New Year's. Apparently, Chris had confused Alexis with Rachel, who he'd then confused with Paula. That was... impressive. Also impressive was the way we beat the crap out of each other in kumite. We both got hit in the head, we both have great big lumps on our shins, we both have creaky, slow muscles. At least it was mutual, though he far exceeds me in skill.
Sensei and Greg took Chris and me out to a bar after class. Yes, a real live bar. With too-loud music and everything. We took a table in back, I drank a "Bass" and we shot the shit for two hours. Good, clean fun, really. I think I gave out some URLs; I may have talked to Greg about my concept of my future; I know I ate three plates of fries. So, there we have it---fries and beer, a good evening's nutrition.
Sensei gave me two compliments. First, "You know---you're all right", as we were leaving the bar, and "You're a barrel of laughs---I mean that in the good way" as he was driving me back to the dorm. Sometimes I'm witty and charming, and sometimes I only open my mouth to stuff in my foot. I never can tell which it's going to be; I suppose it's dumb luck, lubricated by alcohol.
I'm listening to System of a Down's "Steal This Album". I'd heard the unmastered studio versions that were leaked over the internet, but this... this is fantastic stuff. I normally don't write about music in here, and I don't really have anything other than rabid fanboy mouth-froth to contribute (well, Daron Malakian is hot, too), but it's like a forty-four minute eargasm. I think Lee would even like "Roulette". Mmm, acoustic. |
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