Yep, I do. I admit it. I wish that I at least had a chance to dance. That rhymed. I should write a poem. A poem about dancing and I will be the star. Shining brightly. For the whole world to see. But not the guys--that was creepy. Clubbing should be ladies only so that we can enjoy ourselves. Or guys who know how to join the party. Shall we?
We are liberated, independent women.
KJ to her friend tonight. Why should we have to remind ourselves? Damn the man! Save the Empire! Okay, maybe I took that too far, but give me a break (of that Kit Kat bar). I'm so sick of guys and men and them thinking that they have some mystical power over me. Women are incredibly powerful. I'm incredibly powerful. So there. *sticks out tongue*
Fobbing
I get to Fob tomorrow. *dance break*
The Writing on the Wall
I ran out of space on the mirror, so I moved to the shower wall. TB can play witness to my roommate coming home, heading for the bathroom, crying out in shock/surprise/dismay/whatever, and coming back to the kitchen to ask if that was a poem on the wall. Of course it was a poem. I write prose in my bedroom, not the bathroom. Silly roommate.
Free Dinner
I just got an email from "Free Dinner." I want to know what the hell I did to be receiving so much junk mail lately. I must be cursed. And I'll say no thank you to Free Dinner. I have two perfectly good frozen burritos to eat.
Uffish Delights
Uffish introduced me to a new addiction: Rodney Smith. I don't love everything on his site, but this is just about perfect.
5 comments:
Um, if you're a lesbian you can just say so. We love you for who you are, eg. Really. You don't have to keep making these subtle references about clubbing with women and the power they have over you.
Oh, and I'm dancing in celebration of fobbing tomorrow too. Is that allowed?
MF: Thanks a lot. I was going to come out sooner or later, but not on my blog. Way to spoil the surprise.
And I said men could dance with us. Just not sit there and watch. *shudders*
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I went to the Black and White night at the MOA last semester and looked at the display of Smith's stuff. And I loved it. But I had forgotten his name. Which would be a real tragedy, because soon I'm going to be rich and famous and probably buy his whole gallery.
Also, why do you not have a chance to dance? Everyone should dance. It's good for them. Us. People.
I'm done talking now. But I'm excited to see you on Saturday.
I love that you write on the walls. And I really want a girls-only clubbing night. I sorta want to bring Lunkwill 'cause I love to have him with me everywhere, but I don't think he'd like it that much anyway... it's not really his thing.
Golly. Which guys would you even be willing to have go with? *rolls eyes*
My favorite Rodney Smith photo from the MOA exhibit (not the website) is the one titled (I believe) "Self-Portrait" where his son is holding a polaroid that shows Rodney Smith holding a camera taking a picture of...what seems to be you, the viewer. It is so trippy. Don't see Rodney or his son's face, neither reality comes forward, and yet the attention is on you. Super awesome. It's not a self-portrait of anybody. None of the three people. Wow. And I'm sure it's deeper than that. K I'm done.
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