I have to pee so badly right now but I am in bed and I'm writing this evil bitch of a French paper that is due in eight hours, so I am not going because I feel like it will keep me awake better. As if the sugar from the Girl Scout cookies I got in the mail today and the chocolate soy ice cream I've eaten tonight weren't going to do that anyway ( Read more... )

Dear America's Next Top Model ( Read more... )

Mostly bad news: I had a strict schedule for what I was supposed to be getting done this week, and I've only 90% stuck to it (this means I have not done my civ-mil readings for today, nor have I finished reading L'amélanchier. Ugh. However, I've figured out how to mostly take classes I don't hate despite the fact that the poli sci departments ( Read more... )

Sometimes I forget that within my own social circle there are people with little to no belief in social justice, because I tend to surround myself with liberals--and by that, I don't mean the Canadian political party or the way Ronald Dworkin means it. When I remember that these people are like that, it is so disappointing. It feels like a betrayal ( Read more... )

It still really, really bothers me that in French "wife" and "woman," and "girl" and "daughter" are the same words (femme and fille, respectively), while "man" (homme) and "husband" (mari) and "boy" (garçon) and "son" (fils) get to be different. Fuck that fucking shit so hard.

Taking another belated moment to announce my love for my Diva Cup. Two of my roommates bought them today, and if they like them and keep using them, they'll be my seventh and eighth converts eighth and ninth converts (as far as I know, anyway) to the glory that is never using another tampon or pad again ( Read more... )

Thing this election has caused:

1. Irritating news coverage
2. My Gender, Race, and Science professor learning the term "pimped out" in her sixties (at least, I think that's about how old she is).

I am very annoyed that the way to express what I am currently irritated about necessitates the use of the words "I'm sorry," because clearly I'm not sorry in the least. I'm sorry I don't love my sewing machine and I don't know how to knit and I'm sorry I hate thrifting because it takes hours to find one single I thing I might wear and I don't like ( Read more... )

What does it say about me if all I remember about watching Sesame Street every morning for years of my life is those mornings when the connections or the broadcasting was somehow fucked up and all I got was a weird, static, vertically striped rainbow?

Every morning I am left wondering how the hell I ended up with roommates (PLURAL) who do not seem to know how to actually TURN OFF their alarm clocks. Either that, or they simply enjoy listening to the same irritating tone over and over again. Jesus Christ, it is really not that hard. I do it every morning with zero to very little fuss.