Before the frivolous prattling, I watched Boys Don't Cry today. I'd never seen it before and didn't know that it was a true story and didn't know the ending (which I won't say here just in case someone is like I was and doesn't know how it ends) but did a fair bit of crying and wanting to be held. Later, I spent an hour online looking up information about Brandon Teena, transgender issues, etc. It's renewed my interest in queer theory, so don't be shocked if stuff of that nature starts popping up around here. God, Hilary Swank is such an amazing actress.

I attended my last party (which sounds so awesome but it's one of, like, three) of the semester tonight. I finally got to see Yellow Brick House, and more importantly, got a real, non-awkward hug from my beloved Victoria.

The party was lots of fun, partially because lots of my favorite people were there and partially because the night was littered with conversations such as the following:

Me = Smarter than she appears!
Kelli = Awesome!

Me: *cocking my head to listen to the music* What is he saying?
Kelli: Smack Dat.
Me: What?
Kelli: Smack Dat.
Me: Smack what?
Kelli: Dat.
Me: That?
Kelli: No, dat.
Me: But smack what?
Kelli: *slapping her ass emphatically* DAT.
Me: ... ooooh. Dat. Okay.

Also, everyone has just informed me that Fergie's "London Bridge" is about oral sex. Which is funny, because I thought that she was just being clever and using the London Bridge a metaphor for an untold range of sex acts left up to the listener's imagination. But no. Apparently it's about oral sex. Which should have been obvious, but it wasn't.

Packing tomorrow. Then: going out, dancing, sleeping, and... *gulp* Scrabble tournament. And then home.

Some links to make you laugh and, subsequently, cringe:

I want to meet the author of this paper.

A figurine of Mary Jane being a good, obedient girlfriend and washing Spiderman's outfit by hand in a skimpy outfit. No, I am not making this shit up. God, I hate people sometimes. Who the hell thought of this thing? (Warning to my fellow feminists: this link may make you want to stick your head in a vat of acid. Just sayin'.)

And for the record: you will never, ever, catch me hand washing my SO's clothes in a thong, low cut shirt, and pearls. That's just not how I roll.