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Monday, June 27, 2005

I HATE MY WRITING CLASS 

Really, I do. I love my teacher but hate her class.

Almost all of the women, save for one or two, are amoral little (sounds like...) twits who are either sleeping with married men and rationalizing like hell, or doing something else really ill-advised, like being involved with a notoriously crusty C-list celebrity and then wondering why she only sees him on alternate Tuesdays; or living with a man who also has a girlfriend somewhere in South America and says it is an "open relationship." Yeah, right, Braniac. I'm sure.

They all remind me of Autumn's angels-flew-up-my-vagina woman.

Here is just a little sampling of what goes on in there:

"I need as much cushioning as possible...herpes flare-up."
"Me, too...!"

"We are in love." Much smug grinning, spacey look.

The next week - "Things with me and Jiminez are just not working!" Huh! Why could that be...? Could it be because, as a large black man named Jiminez, he is confused much of the time...?

My teacher - "I want to f---k Mickey Mouse! I have the whole outfit. I wanted my ex to wear the hands, and...like you know, I was the only one he would cheat on Minnie with, but he wouldn't do it."

Little twit (replace the letter "i" with "a") who is f---ing very ill-advised musician and C-list actor - "the smell of jasmine reminds me of my LOVAH. I could almost have an ORGASM just by smelling it." Errr...

"We've 'traveled' together during sex." Yes, she thinks they time-traveled, past life regressions, etc. Uhhhkay.

"He doesn't believe in chakras...I don't know if this is going to work out."

"I read twenty horoscopes a day!"

"My life has been SO changed since I had my numerology done...!"

"He was angry. The feng shui was bad."

It is not so much a writing class as a big herpes flare-up estrogen-induced hippie bullshit love-fest.

Blah.

I HATE MY WRITING CLASS
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