"get your hands off my woman" by the darkness
"get your hands off my woman" has the greatest lyrics ever written:
you are drunk and surly
in latino lover mode
we all know what's on your agenda
we've broken the code
i've got no right to lay claim to her frame
she's not my possession
get your hands off my woman, motherfucker
poetry. i have to confess that i prefer tatu's "how soon is now" to the smith's original. this, i suspect, may account for the troubles within my group in english 102. but who knows.
i don't think we're getting the grade until somebody clears up the matter: the teacher said "i have this feeling that only one person is doing any work" and, coincidentally, he is correct. but since it is ME, i can't really handle it. i COULD email him and bemoan the barren work ethic plaguing my cohorts but i choose not to cause that's, i don't know, crass. i'd rather they own up to their whole not doing much. i have a feeling that won't happen though, you know? i don't know quite why...
ah, i really like tatu.
last night i was reading this book i got several xmases ago, bowiestyle. it's a really great book, it behooves you to at least try, that is a pretty good sized coffee-table gangster. i like it a lot. but it made me think about why, despite enjoying his music and being very engaged by his sense of style, did i never get into bowie as i've gotten into other artists? the united forces that are the bouffant and the mullet may be the culprits, but they are easy to overcome. now i'm just ashamed.
i also read the bust guide to the new girl order until three-thirty. BUST is quite likely my joint favorite magazine along with VICE. if BUST and VICE had a baby that'd be pretty nice. it probably wouldn't address you until you had to work with it in class and then it would murmur some intelligent commentary and counter its own statements with a sexual expletatives about dead kittens. ever day i love myself more and more.
if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start