“We Can Do It In the Library, On Top of the Books, But You Can’t Be Too Loud”

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Why do you think you take a ho to a ho-tel? There you ho again.

For some people it’s Sartre of Foucault, but I always find myself quoting the modern philosopher Ludacris. And now that you’ve forgotten why you read this blog, or why you’re friends with me (for my offsite peeps) I will leave you with this:

Thank you, Giant Head of Ronald Reagan, for letting me start my period, so I can go back to obsessing over food and my boring-ass research report. Which is how it should be. Instead of, you know, me deciding if I should hump the bus stop sign or wait for another hobo to walk by. Armchair or television set? Cherry tomatoes or mashed potatoes? Dirty bombs or DIR-TAY bombs? I would’ve taken someone in a surgical mask and a beard at that point, and it would have been even better if they wouldn’t have been an MD. I would hump anything two days ago.

Back to “normal” for another three weeks, at least.

10 thoughts on ““We Can Do It In the Library, On Top of the Books, But You Can’t Be Too Loud””

  1. I’m trying to figure out what my excuse is… for wanting to hump everything/one in sight. Or at least always asking myself the question, “doable?”

  2. I know how you feel. Really. These ‘baccer chewin’, scruffy lookin’, three toothed rednecks out here in butt-effed country are startin’ to look gooooood. Help me!

  3. This is getting weird SJ. The way your posts answer questions that I raise in my posts. I just posted about how gay men are so cool because they have this variety of love-objects. Like the ‘bears’: Fat men with beards. But straight women never come up with anything very original.

    Now I see that we could develop weirder tastes–but only during those few days we are ovulating.

    Is it really this biological? Are we only crazed on a cycle and then become suddenly able to concentrate?

    I remember telling my friends that whenever I was reading Sartre, Foucault (not Ludacris) or anything boring, basically–that I always thought about sex. Basically, theories seemed to make me think about sex. The more dull and abstract the more my mind would be filled with wild, racy thoughts. In other words, I didn’t need porn–all I needed was Heidegger or Sartre…

    Of course–it was the boredom. Since I never even remembered what I’d read.

  4. That’s the great thing about modern rap…no need to think. Just do. Very Tao of Humping.

  5. Shit, I was going to burn you a copy of the newest Ludacris album, and I never did. Do you still want it? I deliver!

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