September 2, 2004

Again, this is not an actual post.

Actual posting will resume once I've milked this sabbatical thing for all it is worth. However, I have a few minutes while the roommate is smoking up on the roof, so I figured I had better blog about the convention before it gets old.

Bush's speech didn't actually mean anything, of course. It was nice to be in a room full of guys (well, five or six, but for a dorm room that's cramped) who were big and burly and who hated Bush. Of course, it makes me sound like a huge pervert typing that, but that isn't the case. I haven't had a wad off at the wrist since I moved in, but I'm surprisingly ok with that. And by ok, I mean I could have taken this time to blow my stack, but instead I chose to blog. Usually my priorities aren't the same. Aren't you all lucky.

Convention. Of course. That's what I'm talking about. The guys and I, who aren't as politically knowledgable as we like to think we are but we like to pretend, came up with a few drinking games. And, by drinking games, I mean we pretty much said "Oh man, this would make a great drinking game." Two of them had a can of beer, but that was it.

Speaking of alcohol, I drank a little bit my first night here and didn't turn into a blubbering mess. I'm so cool.

There are only a few games that come to mind. The first one was to take a shot after the following words: freedom, democracy, safety, courage, firefighters, Iraq, etc. I'm sure you all know the words about which I'm talking.

The second game was to take a shot whenever the camera had a close-up of a minority. There were a few times, particularly early on, where all the close-ups would be of a minorities, and the big crowd shots were all a sea of chubby white men and women with ugly haircuts.

Oh--this isn't really a drinking game, but it was amusing nevertheless. When the cameras showed Barbara Bush, did anyone else feel as though Austin Powers should run into the balcony and scream "It's a man, baby, yeah" and tug at her face? The guys and I all thought so.

According to my stats, I'm a more popular person when I'm taking a break, so I should keep this brief, and so I'll wrap this up. Besides, Friday's classes are the suck. I have class from 9:50 to 2:10, with only fifteen minutes between classes, and I don't think there's a cafeteria anywhere nearby. Ugh. Bed.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.