Hey! Isn't That Kip Winger?

I feel:: hungry

I went to Books A Million last night with Sally and Tanya. I got lost in the children's section amongst the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Chronicles of Narnia, and the various Hello Kitty items. At one point, Tanya told Sally,"Keep her away from the Hello Kitty stuff!" I found a case of colored pencils, a hot/cold thermos, a notebook with Hello Kitty paper in it, a calculator...I could go on, but I won't. I wish sometimes that I were a little girl again then I could like little girly things without people looking at me like I'm crazy. Well, I didn't actually buy any children's books. Sally and Tanya bought a whole load of Nancy Drew Mysteries, so I guess I don't feel so bad. When is it not ok to not like children's things? When should little boys give up their train sets and Matchbox cars for PS2 and muscle cars? When should little girls give up frilly butt panties and dolls for raising children and driving minivans? Maybe I'm just frustrated at the moment. I don't know.

I experienced my first lightening storm last night. I was driving in it on the way back from the bookstore. It was scary/amazing/wonderful/thrilling all at the same time. The wind was whipping everything around like rags and my car was hydroplaning in the water gathered on the freeway. I was trying to drive, watching out for the lightening and trying to see through the driving rain and it felt like my heart was doing a jig in my chest. When I got home, I ran inside and yelled to my dad,"We're having a ligtening storm!" I rushed out to the back yard and just stood there with the wind whipping my hair around and the windchimes tinkling wildly. There was lightening everywhere I looked and it was constant with only a second or two between strikes. I remember thinking,"Jesus, are you coming back tonight?" It was that powerful. My cats, all three of them, were just freaked out. My two oldest were alternately pacing around the house meowing and running around like they had ants in their pants. My littlest one I found hiding in my dad's bathroom. I called and called him and when he finally came out he was walking sideways towards me with his back arched and his fur standing on end. I picked him up and for the rest of the night, whenever I would put him down, he would squeak at me to pick him back up. So, I wound up carrying him around with me for most of the night. I was going to write something here, but I dared not get on my computer for fear of power surges.

One day last week, as I walked into my Psychosexual Behavior class, I saw a transparency on the overhead projector separated vertically into two sections. On the left side were drawings of flaccid, uncircumcised penises. On the right, were drawings of erect, uncircumcised penises. On the blackboard, written in pink chalk, were the words,"GOOFY DICK GAME". My professor told us that the object of this game was to see how many flaccid penises we could match correctly to the erect penises. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. What was even funnier is that last night, while I was at dinner with Sally and Tanya, I was telling them about the Goofy Dick Game and Sally, incredulous, said loudly, just as our waiter walked up to check our drinks,"PENISES?!" We all nearly fell out of our seats laughing. As our waiter walked away shaking his head, I said,"Is it just me, or does he look like Kip Winger?" Commence new round of uncontrollable giggles. For the rest of the night, we called him Kip.


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