Classes, Shopping, and Presidential Deathmatches

No, I’m not dead. I’ve just been ambushed by my first week of classes (real classes, that is. Everyone knows that J-Term classes don’t count). Medieval Ideology, World War II, The Antebellum South, 19th Century Woman Writers… *happy sigh * So much shiny historical goodness. Of course, I have to write a 10-20 page paper for all of them, and that’s not even counting the weekly offering-to-the-gods-of-criticism I have to produce for Adv. Creative Writing, and I just finished reading 138 pages on the Rape of Nanking for WWII class and may never eat again…

But on the other hand, I spent far too much money at the mall this weekend, much of it at Fye, the one stop shop for all your DVD/CD/video/entertainment-of-choice needs. I am now the proud owner of the second Hellsing DVD, a box set of Desperado and OuaTiM (El, Sands, Carolina, and more fireballs & shoot-outs that you can shake a stick at), Andrea Boccelli singing Tosca (for my Mom’s birthday), and the unedited version of the new Outkast CD (for Sarah’s birthday—-editing her English paper on the Iliad via email was present #1, this is present #2). Plus two button-down shirts (do you have any idea how hard it is to find decent conservative, men’s dress shirt-style button-downs sized for women?) and a new guys flannel shirt (in green). I’ve decided to break with my longstanding tradition of stealing oversized flannel shirts from relations and significant others to sleep in and start buying them.

*snerks * Hey, if you’re bored and need a little satirical fun to brighten your day, try useless_caucus: Presidential Deathmatch 2004. So far, Jack Sparrow has beaten Hamlet, Emperor Norton of San Francisco has beaten Emperor Nero, Cassandra of Troy has beaten Sir Samuel Vimes (by cheating or election fraud, I’m sure), RuPaul has beaten Whiteny Houston, and everybody, even Al Sharpton, Holden Caulfield and Paris Hilton, has more votes than Joe Liberman.

You've heard the phrase, "It made my blood run cold?"

I don't want to read Iris Chang's The Rape of Nanking anymore. I want to put it in the freezer, a la Joey and Phebe on Friends, and read something happy and safe and civilised, like Jane Austen.

Alas, my WWII class is before my 19th Century Women Writers class, so I cannot.