As Timely Now As It Was Then

You must be wondering how
The boy next door turned out
Have a care, but don't stare because he's still there
Lamenting policewomen, policemen, silly women, tax men
Uniformed whores
They who wish to hurt you work within the law
This world is full, so full of crashing bores
And I must be one, cuz no one ever turns to me to say
"Take me in your arms, Take me in your arms and love me"

You must be wondering how
The boy next door turned out
Have a care, and say a prayer because he's still there
Lamenting policewomen, policemen, silly women, tax men
Uniformed whores
Educated criminals work within the law
This world is full, oh, so full of crashing bores
And I must be one, cuz no one ever turns to me to say
"Take me in your arms, Take me in your arms and love me, love me"

What really lies beyond the constraints of my mind?
Could it be the sea, with fate mooning back at me?
No - it's just more lock-jawed pop stars
Thicker than pig shit, nothing to convey
They're so scared to show intelligence
It might smear their lovely career

This world, I am afraid, is designed for crashing bores
I am not one, I am not one
You don't understand
You don't understand

Borign (Too Bored to Spell "Boring" Correctly)

The end of the semester is upon us. This means I'm about to a lot of scrambling, a little sweat, a few tears, and lots of whining and thrashing about unproductively.

This blog is SO BORING. What should I talk about, though? All I ever do is read shit for class (I can talk about that, I guess - anyone out there interested in an UNABRIDGED history of WalMart?) and watch TV/movies with Boyf. It's nice in that I have an insanely low tolerance for drama, but boring in that I keep running into people and they keep asking that dreaded small-talky question, but who am I to blame them for being unoriginal when I myself am the most unoriginal small-talker ever? "So what have you been up to lately?"

I always just shrug and mutter about grad school being hard and everything but we all know that. Grad school is for overachieving nincompoops, and anyone who's perused the lurid pixels of this blog for longer than ten seconds knows for a fact that I'm AT LEAST a nincompoop.

...Nincompoop.

I'm depressing myself. Here's a video of Stephen Colbert doing a bank ad, probably in 1992 or something, judging from the font.



Oh, Stephen. Giving us hope that one day all roundfaced babycakes who may or may not be wearing orange lipstick can make it to the big time.

WTF IS THIS

First photo included on this blog since the editing pages all changed! I made it EXTRA BIG so you can see why P-Diddy looks like someone left an empty Brita pitcher in the fridge at his apartment.

You're Really Listening!

Last weekend, Boyf made a new friend at the bar. They shared a very niche interest. I thought, "Boyf has just been mourning a lack of dude bros for him to hang out with!" (Boyf's three main dude bros are away at school or just too committed to living like an adult to come hang out at all hours of the evening and morning.) "This might be good for him!" And then I forgot all about it. Today we had this conversation:

Me: are you ever going to invite that guy out for DRINX?

Boyf: hahaha wellll i didn't get his # or last name

Me: oh okay i thought you guys must have exchanged info

      MEN

Boyf: hahahahaha i know

Me: girls would definitely have exchanged info

      like two seconds into the interaction

Boyf: shit, buy that point yall wouldve already traded moisturizer recommendations

Ladies, we're always complaining about how men don't understand us and it's to everyone's detriment that they'll never have the proper abilities to do so. Don't get me wrong, in pretty much 99.99% of instances, I am on that boat with bells on. However...isn't it a little creepy when they have insights like this? 

I mean, creepy in a completely fulfilling, delightful, You're Really Listening kind of way, of course!