"Dude, It's Her Vagina, She Can Do What She Wants With It."
Need I say more? One of "hidden" joys of teaching a women's history class. I'm going to go for some serious entertainment and apply to be the instructor for the women's studies 101 class next year. Imagine the possible essays. (S., you don't have to imagine, you lived it!)
I haven't blogged in quite a while (Florida? When did I go there?), but I blame this wicked flu I've had for the past forever. I don't usually get sick, when I do it's usually just a cold or something brief and passing, so I was fairly unprepared for five days of fever, chills and hacking. Now I've just had an additional week of "just" hacking and fatigue that followed, which frankly is working my last nerve, but I'll take it to have the fever gone and finally be feeling a little more like my human self again. As E points out, it's the constant little kitten coughs that drive you batty, because they sound mild enough that you and those around you assume you should be able to hold them in. Except you can't, or else you end up in some sort of kitten-coughing fit, which is just ridiculous. I've reached the point of taking herbal tinctures and thinking my mom may be right when she claims red hair has given me a weakened immune system. No, wait, what? That's not right. The herbal tinctures must be interacting with one another.
On a brighter, less whiny note, I had the pleasure of at least getting sick in excellent company -- my fantastic friend S. was visiting from her current perch at the feet of this demigoddess in SF. Of course, we managed to give her some NW hospitality, including the flu, inappropriately racialized comments at John Henry's (every time!), and lots of midget hippie boys pot-staring at us as we drove around and thinking, in S' imagination: "Dude, your car's really weighing you down!" These are clearly the kind of hippies who share a lot in common with the student who wrote this week's prize-winning paper title. It was, in all seriousness, an amazing visit with one of my favorite people in the entire world, followed by my accompanying her back to SF for two days. Since we both had the flu at that point, our needs were met by some basic lying around, knitting, sipping delicious "tonic" and playing Rock Band with R. & J., whom I finally, happily got to meet and get in hilarious arguments with about the apocalypse. (And now I get to congratulate them both on the engagement that just transpired this weekend! Congrats!)
I've seen San Francisco before, so I was happy just to get to see my friends, sick or no, and be introduced to this Rock Band game. Let's just say we rocked the Clash, among others. And we managed to make it out one day to go to Alcatraz, which was fascinating and well worth it, flu and all. We are now starting a "Bring Back Alcatraz" club, email for T-shirts. Honestly, compared to our modern prisons... My favorite thing of all about it was Rule #5 from the prison handbook, which I actually bought in magnet form: "You are entitled to food, clothing, shelter and medical attention. Anything else you receive is a privilege." Wait, I have a right to that stuff? Seriously?
Dude?
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