June 22, 2005

And I am Marie of Roumania.

Your are Dorothy Parker - a cute little smart-ass,
armed with rapier wit and agile hands. You run
with the foremost minds of your generation.
You are appreciated in your own time, as well
as after your death.

Which Dead Poet Are You?

Oh, Dottie. If you keep following me around, I'm going to have to send for a restraining order.

In slighly related news, since men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses, I've started to wear contacts again. While wearing contacts does make wearing obnoxiously large sunglasses more fun, it does dry out my eyes, especially at work.

I don't know if I want men making passes at me, anyway. I mean, sure, it's nice to be checked out and all, but I'm not one for hookups, and I'm going back to school in 8 weeks or so. I can't start seeing anyone except for my right hand, with whom I've had a long-standing relationship for lo these nine years.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.