Yesterday in Speech we finished up the last of the ceremonial speeches and started the impromptu speeches. Just for the hell of it, I volunteered to go first. My topic: "What is in sausage?" I'm not kidding. I played up the ignorance card (to briefly paraphrase what I said: "In Poland, where they have polish sausages, it is thought that they make sausages out of dogs. In Vietnam, they often make sausages out of cats. In the United States--well, who knows? Probably not pig. In conclusion, I suggest that you become vegetarian.") and did surprisingly well. I can now say that I have given a speech about sausage. I don't know whether I should be proud of this or absolutely horrified. I'll say this much though: it was definitely a highlight of my college experience.
As I mentioned earlier, I wrote my last paper of the semester! Hot damn. Furthermore, it was quite possibly the last literary analysis that I'll have to write for the rest of my life. Well. Hopefully. I wrote about the "real" protagonist in Turgenev's "A Month in the Country," which you can read here if you've got nothing better to do.
i keep my crotch up
time to rock
big fat phony
keep your hands on your cock
Beta Satan - 666
(No shit, it's taken me about five months to actually figure out these lyrics. I burst out laughing when I realized what he was actually singing.)
see you've got
a little thing i haven't seen before
but i must warn ya
that i can't help but play around for sure (for sure)
because i get all the girls, i get all the girls
i can learn to settle one down day
but right day i'm living life to mess around and play
see, you've got a little thing i haven't seen before
but i must warn ya
that i can't help but play around for sure
i did it before
i get all the girls, i get all the girls
Calvin Harris - The Girls (yes, I am aware of the inherent irony in my posting this song)
"Le souvenir de ce temps où chaque jour était la même journée, une seule journée de l'existence, longue, brûlante, où j'avais appris tout ce qu'on peut espérer de la vie, la liberté, l'odeur de la peau, le goût des lèvres, le regard sombre, le désir qui fait trembler comme la peur." - J.-M. G. Le Clézio, "Le Temps ne passe pas"
(one of my favorite quotes of all time.)