Oh How Long It Has Been

I realize that I haven't posted in, like, a week, but I also realize that if you care that much about how often I post, you lead a sad, pathetic life. A couple things happened today in my nonverbal comm class that forced me to break the silence.

First, we always start off every class with some lame-ass icebreaker. Today's was "break up into groups like 6th graders and talk about a time when someone violated your expectations, or you violated theirs. Then, we'll make you stand up in front of the class and tell us the best one from your group." This girl got up to the front when it was her group's turn to share, and she told us about the time when she was standing across the room from a friend she hadn't seen in a while, and the friend made a motion like he was stroking his own invisible pregnant belly and yelled across the room, "When are you due?" Now, before you women out there get all pee-em-essy on me, let me finish my story. Sit down and shut up. Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by the lady folk, the girl was totally offended. Later in the class, however, she gave us a little insight into her friend's motivation for such a heinous breach of male-to-female communication protocol. She actually had gained a lot of weight since he'd seen her last. Not only that, but still later in the class, she revealed that that particular incident had been "Like, the eighth or ninth time that month someone had asked if I was pregnant." Here's a tip, you cow: maybe think about losing enough weight that 8 or 9 of your friends don't assume you're freaking pregnant. If you've got a gut that could hide a small Vietnamese village, you're gonna have to get used to people assuming you're pregnant. It's still better than your friends just saying, "Jeez, you're fat. Lay off the Krispy Kreme, Kirstie Alley."

Another interesting little thing happened in that class. As a girl was giving a presentation on stereotypes, she asked us what, based on her clothing, we thought her job was. One guy said customer service. The prof said retail. Some chick said clothing salesman, but I'm pretty sure she was high. I came *this* close to saying "stripper!" Turns out I would have been right. I think that's the first real-life stripper I've ever met, unless you count my friend Chris. The thing that really surprised me was the fact that she's pretty much a dog. And I don't mean that in a good way. Seriously, I know 70-year-old men who look better than her. The part I loved was the fact that she "disproved the stereotype that strippers are dumb" simply by being a college student. I've got news for you, my less-than-attractive stripper friend. Despite your semi-brain damaged opinion, some college students are borderline retarded. You've actually strengthened my opinon on the matter with your speech on how the Barbie doll holds women to impossible standards, directly followed by the revelation that you are a participant in the single most culpable industry in the propagation of the idea that women are objects who have only to shut up and have large breasts to be appreciated in this world. Good job, you idiot whore.