bloodygranuaile

Format stolen from Merc, 'cos it's catchy.

School!
"Aliens and Others in Science Fiction" is pretty much the coolest class ever. By the end of the semester I'll probably be fucking sick of aliens, but at the moment I really just can't get past DUDE. I HAVE A CLASS THAT'S ALL READING BOOKS WITH ALIENS. I'm beginning to see why some people dare to make the what seemed to me utterly heretical claim that Professor Huong is even more awesome than Professor Bastien. This class, combined with the excessive amounts of other sci-fi material that various nerds are insisting I become familiar with, means that this is going to be a very aliens-heavy semester. Which is pretty badass.

Bastien's class is awesome 'cos it's Bastien, although the subject matter has not been particularly exciting so far. Logic is horribly dry, but Hendricks has a tendency towards illustrating various drynesses with horribly graphic or silly examples involving aliens or cutting off his hands or what have you, so it's only the homework that makes me want to stab things. Personal Values would be so much better if it weren't at 9 in the morning, but oh well.

Since it is nice and early in the semester, my workload is much reading to little writing. I do enjoy it being early in semesters.

Shopping!
Today Liz, Ally and I went on a simple errand to Wal-Mart to buy sports bras and guinea tees. Ended up getting buying a whole lot of other shit as well, including cheesy Halloween candles that drip blood, and similar useless niceties. I bought a super-soft-and-fuzzy BLACK bathrobe for under 20 bucks and am certain that I am now the cuddliest Goth who ever lived. I think I have been petted more this evening than I have these past few weeks since school started combined.

Liz also bought a red phallus-shaped ice pop to beat people with, which was immensely entertaining the few hours it lasted. The thing's name was Quincy. After two or three hours of Liz, Josh, Adam, and James all hitting each other with it, it burst, drenching the common room in red. I cannot do the hilarity justice in writing, suffice to say that I <3 my suite (and the other dork suite) and they are all very disturbed people.

Sparta!James (Zug) had a friend in town yesterday. Said friend sells Greek wine for a living, is loudly and proudly Spartan, uses some variation of the phrase "That's how we/I roll" at least once every ten seconds, and entertained us with amusingly disturbing stories for about six hours straight about everything from crazy Goth ex-girlfriends to his grandmother sowing chaos and disorder amongst the Nazis in World War Two. Also, he left the suite with a couple of bottles of nice Greek wine.

It would be absolutely none of my business to recount any of the stories he told us, but suffice it to say that it is nice to occasionally meet people who remind you that storytelling is the basis for human civilization.

Also, very interesting debate on religion while he was here, predominantly between him and Dylan. Greek dude won. Dylan man enough to concede defeat graciously. I am surrounded by awesome people.

Boys!Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them.

Even the ones that aren't stupid can be pretty frustrating to deal with. Take deep breaths.

Why do I even have a boys category for update? There is not supposed to be anything there. Much less plural. The End of Days is coming.

*throws rocks. Rocks, I tell you.*

Girls!
...Exist in my social groups now!

Me, Liz and Ally were jokingly trying to decide who was the nice one, who was the smart one, and who was the slutty one, now that we have a functioning "group of girls". (I'm the smart one, since being a frigid bitch disqualifies me for the other two.)

Also, many many of Keen's adopted freshmen this year are girls, since they are his girlfriend and then all of her friends. In fact, I think the only male out of Keen's adopted freshmen this year is Dylan. This is highly unusual.

Zombies!
http://imdb.com/title/tt0109592/
Acquire. Watch. Now.
Necrophilia warning! But still.

When I die, I want my head to be severed from my body, and still be able to talk, sing, eat, have an attitude problem, walk, fly, and bite people. (But not snog ugly fat mens; we can skip that bit.)

Also, zombie Boy Scouts.

Who reads this? Go get lives, all of you.