Thursday, 15 December 2011

The day I did nothing of importance but wrote about shit anyway, or why conspiracy theorists should be worried about Bob Dylan and possibly also about my fat earlobes.

I know it's been a few days since I handed in my last term paper, but I'm still fairly certain that I'm incapable of writing an intelligent, coherent post. But cut me some slack! I mean, in a week and a half I wrote and handed in approximately FOURTEEN THOUSAND WORDS (it looks soooooo much more impressive written out like that than if I just write "14,000 words") of academic writing. That is a lot.

Anyway, I'm here to show you my dedication to my craft of blog-writing. Despite my lack of intelligence and coherence, I'm going to write something anyway. Are you ready?

Did you know I have weirdly large earlobes?

Conspiracy theorists should stop worrying about 9/11 and start focusing all their attention on Bob Dylan. Seriously, I know the dude's 70, but HE IS FUCKING WITH OUR MINDS. For realz. I wrote a paper about it. Well, I wrote a paper about his Christmas album, but he's totally using his Christmas album to fuck with our minds. I mean, look at this video!

He's going to kill us. Or just repeatedly change religions and political viewpoints until all the Dylan scholars explode. So I QUIT, MR. DYLAN. YOU WIN. Except you don't because I WIN because I will not explode. I refuse to explode no matter what kind of crazy shit you do.

Although, Mr. Dylan, I think you may just explode if you keep trying to sing. "Hard the Herald Angels Sing" sounds like it nearly gave you a stroke. Or maybe you were just shitfaced when you sang it. SEE. THERE HE GOES AGAIN. HE'S DELIBERATELY CONFUSING ME SO I SPEND TOO MUCH TIME ANALYZING HIS SHITTY ATTEMPT TO SING A CHRISTMAS CAROL. You can listen to it here. And don't tell me what you think. BECAUSE I QUIT, BOB.

Back to earlobes. Okay, so, a couple of years ago I discovered that my earlobes are abnormally thick. I used to have three piercings in each earlobe, and I'd usually just wear studs in my upper two holes. (That's a weird phrase. "My upper two holes." ...let's not overthink that. Moving on.) But I kept losing the studs! Turns out my earlobes are so fat that the backings were barely staying on. My earlobes are so fat that they EJECTED my earrings from my ear. And then the other day I was squeezing Jimmifer's earlobe because I'm five and I like to bug people by squeezing their earlobes and I realized that the surface area of his earlobe was considerably smaller than the surface area of the pad/thumbprint area of my thumb. (You know, like the part you touch stuff with and the place where your thumbprint is...) THE SURFACE AREA OF MY EARLOBE IS BIGGER THAN THE SURFACE AREA OF MY THUMBPRINT/PAD/THING. What the hell. I have giant earlobes.

In my defence, Jimmifer absorbs smells. Yes, that's "in my defence." I have giant earlobes and he smells like food, so we're even. Before I was down by one. But I defended myself by attacking him and now we're even. It makes sense. Maybe. ANYWAY he absorbs food smells. Like he'll eat curry or be near curry and he'll smell like curry for two days. The other day he made chicken stock from scratch (which is super cool by the way because how many of you live with people who cook all your meals and make shit from scratch and all you ever have to do is peel potatoes and wash the dishes?). He finished making the stock and put it in the freezer and rinsed the pot he was making it in and went to bed. I stayed up for a while, and by the time I went to bed, the kitchen and living room no longer smelled like chicken. But then I went into our room, and our ROOM SMELLED LIKE CHICKEN. And I got into bed and IT WAS JIMMIFER. HE SMELLED LIKE CHICKEN. He hadn't even EATEN chicken. He'd just stood near boiling chicken bones. WTF. Weird.

I randomly started watching The Cosby Show the other day except it wasn't totally random because I had been watching Community and I saw the episode from the second season where Shirley's ex-husband comes back and he's THEO from The Cosby Show and he's old and kinda hot and he's wearing this crazy striped sweater with snowflakes on it and Jeff's all like, "I like your sweater," and ex-husband Theo says, "Thanks. My dad gave it to me." And I DIED of laughter. I realize it's not THAT funny. But I died. And then proceeded to watch the first eight episodes of The Cosby Show in one day. But my point is is that at some point during all this I found this. Clair Huxtable: Mom Style Icon. And she was. She was. I mean, just look at this:

Maybe when I get my coherence back (likely after the holidays), I will write something intelligent about The Cosby Show. I think there's something intelligent to say there. Who knows? We'll find out.

So I e-mailed the lovely Nicole who writes the hilarious and wonderful blog Nicole is Better and told her about the chocolate vagina lollipops that we used to order and sell at the Vagina Monologues at the school where I did my undergrad. (I acted in them four times and directed them once and Nicole writes about vaginas a lot so this all made quite a lot of sense at the time.) Anyway, a few days ago Nicole tweeted about these vagina lollipops. Of course, she didn't tweet about the regular ones that we used to order - no, she tweeted about the fucking weird ones. Like CRISPY VAGINA COOKIES. Seriously. YOU CAN ORDER THOSE ON THE INTERNET.

How creepy is that? But I suggested that a better gift idea this holiday season would be the PINK FUZZY VAGINA LOLLIPOP. Yeah, fuzzy.

Who DOESN'T want to eat chocolate pubic hair? Mmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!! Also, why is it PINK? It just looks...I don't know. Weirder than the chocolate-coloured ones. I don't even know.

It is so windy outside that our windows are rattling and the blinds are blowing in the wind even though the windows are closed and WHY DO I LIVE IN A SHIT HOLE? Oh yeah. I'm a grad student... The hole in the shower is gone though! It has been replaced by a rather large floor tile so it looks slightly ridiculous. But at least there's no hole. And we have fewer fruit flies now! Although one of our traps now has fruit fly larvae in it and I'm getting scared.

In conclusion, I'm going to go mark essays now. Or maybe watch The Cosby Show and then mark essays... One of the essays I have to mark has the phrase "GIVE ME YOUR BRAINS" in its title, so I'm kind of excited. I apologize to the student whose essay that is. If you ever happen to stumble upon this blog, dear student, I realize that you did not give me permission to share that with the world, but it's really freakin' awesome so I hope you don't mind.

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