John Milton Marries Britney Spears and Other Disconcerting News from the Front

Yeah, so today my Milton professor (who looks like the archetypal English professor complete with squarish glasses and baldness) professed his undying love for Britney Spears's "world class pelvis" and how he (through the aid of both Levitra and Viagra) would love to "use" (in the Augustinian sense of the word) said pelvis throughout Super Bowl weekend, as one desires companionship at the especially romantic time. Seriously. That defies comment--I'm just going to post it here for your combined enjoyment and revulsion.

Lots of stuff (unrelated to Britney, of course) happened in the world of me today. For instance, I saw Capt. K walking across campus which elicited a scream and hug from me, which I later had mixed feelings about as I hate people who do that, but which seems (still) to be wholly justified by my love for said Capt. Further, Matt and I went and turned in a very important bureaucratic form related, of course, to our upcoming nuptials, which set the wheels of marriage to grinding incessantly. I am still excited, and am currently feeling no sense of the foreboding that I probably should feel being a child of divorce and living in a country with a 50% divorce rate. Oh well. It just seems strange to me that there is so much bureaucratic bullshit one must wade through in order to pledge your undying love for another. Forms, forms, forms. Kinda takes all the love out of it, if you ask me, but we Americans are rational if we are anything, and I guess I should be used to it by now. Ho hum.

What else? Oh, in Milton class I came up with a great title for my strange little novel--"A Perverse Sweetness," a title that I think is divine even if it sounds like a Harlequin romance for foot fetishists, and surprisingly came straight from St. Augustine. So there's that. And now, I am sitting here writing and eating Droste pastilles that are hinted with an orange flavor that ranks somewhere on the divineness scale a tad above Tolstoyan metaphor and slightly below orgasm. They are that good. So it's a good day. I am fixing some ziti with roasted vegetables and feta tonight, and Matt and I are sharing a bottle of merlot. Another good thing. In fact, life is so good right now, that I could just pop, and probably will if I eat anymore chocolate. Either that, or in the immutable words of my creative writing professor, "You need to kill someone off."

So that's it. I am too cute and happy right now to do anyone any good, so I am going to go and dissolve into either Edith Wharton or Law and Order, I haven't decided which yet. Have a good un, and stay away from Britney. She is a married woman now.