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 Latest
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Diaryland |
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2002-10-29 - 9:53 a.m. A question I pose to my Women's Words professor: "Is it really that fresh?" Seriously, come on, "Fresh?" Needless to say I was stunned. I eat up flattery like a fat kid at a buffet. Keep talking about me, sure I'll walk you out to your car. Keep talking. Now I got all these ideas in my head. Grrr. Well, now I know I'm not writing absolute crap, minus the misused commas and tense shifting, but she gave me some advice on that. After that, you know, then it's unstoppable. A beast with these fangs man, these unbelievable claws, ready to pounce, I just gotta get the shit together, and that's been kinda hard lately, but this class has been my gospel. Where else can you get 20 women sitting around you talking about pornography and starting up communes? Really? There's an old lady in there named "Boots." How cool is that? A dyslexic lesbo, "Boots," the teacher, the crazy bitch, the nerd celtic girl, the hot Sri Lankan, the working mom, the other woman who admits to loving soft porn, and they all laugh at my jokes. I feel like I'm in on a secret. It's like I've been dropped into a movie situation the likes of Sister Act or A League of Their Own but alot more dirtier. I wish I had the class 3 times a week, 3 hours a day.
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