Yo bitches. I'm back. I know I didn't post for a while, but I've had massive computer problems, let me tell you. I haven't had an I, a K, an 8, or a , for the past week, so typing anything is a problem. As a matter of fact, my home computer still doesn't have those characters working, so I am at school.
But, bitches, I got a whole lot of shit to discuss, so let's get down to it.
Things I wants to discuss:
1) the high literary readings of my Terrorism class, who can all go to Hell, because I've tried reasoning with them, and well, it's just come to this
2) the fact that Russian people are weird, and that, all heritage questions aside, no one should wear a mullett. Years lived under the veil of communism are no excuse, missy.
3) getting older is going to suck, and I am scared shitless at the prospect of it
So let's get right down to it. Today in Terrorism, we discussed Boris Akunin's The Winter Queen, which is really delightful even if I am required by law to say that because my fiance did his honors thesis on it. The book is centered on this whole detective/international intrigue idea, but is just delightfully written. So of course, my class had problems with it. Too easy, they said. A beach read, some yelled. And I say in loud voice and with teeth glinting: FUCK YOU, YOU PRETENTIOUS SWINE! These people, seriously, have no clue. Akunin's book is simple, I'll give you that, but it is deceptively so (which is what my lovely professor said in his lovely kiss-my-Phd-you-pimple-faced-asshats way). I mean, seriously, I consider myself to have relatively high reading tastes. But I love low stuff too. And let me tell you, this was not a low-brow read. These people need to get their heads out of their asses and get off the ivory tower and realize that people who are not Fyodor fuckin' Dostoevsky can write too. In fact, some of the greatest books in the English language are those books that are deceptively simple--The Catcher in the Rye, The Bell Jar, Atonement, all the Sherlock Holmes stuff just to name a few. So get off it people. Fuck yourself with a cheese grater, and then get off it, you pretentious assholes.
(Straightens shirt, takes a drink of water, calms down.)
And of course the loudest, most pretentious people who had to shout out their discontents are these two Russian girls. Now, this is bad because I am probably going to live there at some point, but if these two are representative of the whole of the Russian people, I am up shit creek without the proverbial means of transport. They are shrill, and a little bit ignorant, and worst of all, one of them has a feathered mullett. Swear to god. I sit behind her, and it's just a party back there, let me tell you. So I am led to say...If you want to make a good argument that you expect me to believe, cut your mullett first. This goes for everyone. I don't take the book recommendations of someone whose hair style is as culturally repugnant as one could possibly go without turning into Bono circa 1985. Just a word of advice.
So at this point, having exhausted my anger, I am going to write about what I really meant to write about today, which was my overwhelming fear of getting older. Today I (illegally) parked in the faculty/staff lot, mostly out of laziness. And as I was walking to class, I get behind a professor's wife, who I know, and who is teaching classes here. And all I can think is, This could be me someday. Some little woman wearing this strange billowy shirt who is married to some genius type figure, but is really, on her own, nothing more than someone who if I saw and didn't know, might think is a little bit kooky. And I say....oh, shit. Because I'm thinking, all this time, I've thought that getting older would be ok if one is smart and happy and didn't cut their hair in that strange pointy, mussed up hair style that all middle aged women get. But then I just saw this woman, just really saw her and I thought...she has long hair...she has a smart man...and she's still a middle aged woman. Oh dear lord. You cannot escape it. Unless I get hit by a bus after I write this, I'm going to get older. I'm getting older all the time. And someday, I am going to be an irrelevant middle-aged woman who is bitchy to the waitress at restaurants and who sighs a lot and reads Danielle Steel novels. I am being carried kicking and screaming into an existence that won't allow me to stay like this forever, and who insists that I change. And I'm scared totally shitless, and it's not cool, and I just want to go to bed with a layer of Oil of Olay on my face and hope that it staves off the laugh lines for a few extra years. Sigh. (See--it's already starting...)
Top Ten Things, that I, Morgan, being of sound mind and body, refuse to do when I do become a middle aged woman:
1). Cut my hair. I don't care ifI do end up looking like a witch, I am not going to look like little Susie Soccer-mom with the blunt cut hair that requires a bottle of gel to reach maximum pointiness (you know what I'm talking about).
2). Wear a rain poncho on vacation. I'd rather be wet than look that stupid.
3). Wear high waisted, tapered leg pants.
4). Scream at waiters and waitresses.
5). Use the word "estrogen" in conversation.
6). Read Dan Brown novels (ok, I know that is a bit pretentious, and goes against what I was saying before, but even I have my standards, low as they may be).
7). Drink sugar-free, decaf frappuccinos.
8). Go on a diet that totally eliminates one of the major food groups.
9). Have any sort of plastic surgery or Botox, because even though I don't want to look like a toad, neither do I want to look like a really surprised toad.
10). Listen to anything that can be qualified as "soft rock" or has been covered or sung by Rod Stewart.
And an extra one to grow on...
11). Wear shorts and sneakers to a nice restaurant because I am on vacation, and I can do anything I goddamn want to! Yes, I live in a tourist town. Yes, it blows monkey cock.
I'm still totally freaked out by this idea, but I'm just kind of rambling on and on, and this thing is so fucking long. So I'm going to go. Hopefully, my computer will get the Lord and become better and I can start posting from home. Until then, have a good un!