In Absentia

Part of the reason I haven't posted is that I have barely touched my computer since finals were over. Part of the reason is that I have about four saved drafts now that I haven't published, because mostly they're boring. Since my creativity has decreased as my caloric intake has increased, I haven't had much to say other than logging my daily events, which isn't actually fascinating. But what is fascinating, or at least titillating, is this joke:

How do you titillate an ocelot?
(Highlight blank space to read the answer.)
You oscillate his tit a lot.

It's been a while since I've loved a joke as much as this one, and now that I'm sharing it on the internet, it will prevent me from actually delivering the joke to you all in person. Drat. I just have to do it, though. Merry Christmas, all. And now I'm going to bed.

The Final Countdown

I hope that all of you have that music stuck in your heads for the rest of the day now, too. Doo doo loo dooooo! Doo doo loo-doo-doo!

So it's the final countdown. I have one more to take tomorrow morning and a couple projects to finish up. So, of course, I'm blogging. But at least I'm blogging from the computer lab instead of from home. That's progress, people.

Lest you think that I've been doing nothing but watching House during finals season, let me tell you what happened today.

My print cartridge ran dry. Of course, this happens. It happens to everyone. But the fact is that it was a brand new print cartridge that I had bought late Friday night. Considering I started using it at about 9:00 Saturday morning, I would say that its total life span was about 36 hours. It gave up the ghost when it had only about five more pages of my eighty-page project to print out. I was supposed to turn in the eighty-page project yesterday morning, but my teacher obviously didn't take into account the fact that I had two finals yesterday morning. I had another final this morning, so I didn't get the project to him until this afternoon. I had to print the last five pages on campus and then run the whole project over to his office. He wasn't in his office and the project certainly didn't slide under the door. So there it sits, the murderer of my ink cartridge, outside his door.

Of course, I can't blame only the eighty-page project. I also blame the "Ideas Portfolio" that I had to do for another class for which the teacher required us, during the last week of class, to collect forty samples of different print layouts from different kinds of publications, and write a summary of the good and bad points of each design, including what we would use from the design to create designs in the future. The project took me all day Saturday and all day Sunday and two hours Monday morning to complete. If I hadn't bought a printer/scanner/copier back at the beginning of the semester, I would have been SOL. I was able to make most photocopies at home. Of course, this led to the unexpected death of my color cartridge, too. Life sucks. If you're an ink cartridge. Or an ink-dependent student. Or a student who doesn't like to spend $50 dollars on ink in one week.

Anyway. Back to the final countdown. One more to go. And some homework. Which is why I'm in the computer lab. Here I gooooooooo! Doo doo loo dooooo! Doo doo loo-doo-doo!

What Women Want

I had a disturbing conversation with my mother the other day, during which she talked dreamily about a man who was not my father.

"Oh, he's so handsome," she cooed. "He's very smart. He's brilliant, in fact. And talented. And he's funny. And he's mean. He's very, very mean. But he has so many redeeming qualities that some people just don't see."

She was, of course, talking about Dr. Gregory House of the television show, House M.D. Let's please not mistake him for Hugh Laurie, who I assume is a kind, wonderful person. He has featured in such films as Stewart Little, Stewart Little II and soon, Stewart Little III. Sure he was a bad guy in 101 Dalmatians, but I'm sure that his role as Poirot in Spice World redeemed him. On second thought, I've never seen Spice World and never plan to, but I can only imagine.

As any good daughter would do, I started to investigate this man who my mother had feelings for. I rented the first disc of the first season of House. I knew that I'd like it right away---I'd seen a couple of episodes last year and had always planned on fitting a little House into my schedule, but something always came up on Tuesday nights. Finally, this weekend, between homework assignments, studying, and final projects, I made an appointment with Dr. House. Or, to be more precise, eight appointments.

What I have found is disturbing. I think, like so many other women out there, I am falling in love with House. House: the big, fat jerk. And I'm beginning to realize that when the nice guys whine about women always wanting the bad boys, never wanting the nice guys, they may just have a point.

What is wrong with women that makes us all love a man like House? I propose the following:

A. Good looks.
It is absolutely indisputable that women love only the good looking jerks. Believe me, if Willem Dafoe or Steve Buscemi had been cast as Dr. House, the season would have failed after one episode. No woman wants an ugly jerk. The handsome jerk must also have a rugged look as opposed to a smarmy look. Dr. House's unshavenness contributes to this look of ruggedness.

B. Pride
The jerk that women love is always proud. And he always has a lot to be proud of. His rugged good looks for one. His intelligence for two. The jerks that women really fall in love with always must have incredible intelligence. Much of the time, he is also proud of his money, which women also like. I may point out here that Mr. Darcy of Pride and Prejudice is the stereotypical proud jerk. And women love him. (Also note that he has facial hair.)

C. Weakness
This is what separates the jerk that women hate from the jerk that women love. The jerk that women love always has a weakness. Most of the time, his weakness is being misunderstood by other people. He just doesn't communicate well with people. People don't understand his troubled past. People don't understand his tortured soul. In the case of Dr. House, they gave the poor man a cane of all things, and a pain killer addiction, which only serve to increase women's sympathy towards him. Not only do we feel that we can understand him although no one else does, but we also have that extra mothering instinct take over as we long to cater to his every crippled need.

D. Exclusivity
This one is the key. How does a jerk win women? He treats all other people like crap, but he treats one woman slightly better than crap. He confides in this one woman---but only very seldomly---and she is seduced by his sensitive side that is almost always hidden. She feels that she, above all other human beings, knows the real him. Sure, it is sad that the him that other people see is a big, fat jerk. The him that she sees---that real him---is a wonderful, but tortured soul. In the case of House, we women are allowed to see the real him. We see the camera linger on him for a few seconds after he's said something particularly biting to a friend. We see the look on his face that indicates he knows he's gone too far. He is confiding in us with his body language. We are (censored for Brother 2---highlight area if you want to read it)alone with him in the room when, without family or friends, he plays Happy Birthday to himself on the piano. He is confiding in us!

E. Good Quality/ies
Each jerk has at least one redeeming quality. The problem is, this only redeems him to the one exclusive person. All other people only get the jerk and never see any of the redeeming qualities.

So there it is. A summary of why women love jerks. I have to say, I quasi-dated someone a lot like House once. Well, like House but less good looking, less crippled, and less smart. But he was almost House's equal in the jerk department. To my mother's credit, she steered me far away from him. To Nemesis's credit (I have seen her allude to the allure of Hugh Laurie), she also steered me away from him. So women, I can tolerate (even enjoy) an on-screen jerk boyfriend. But in reality, let's all try to choose the snotty-nosed nice guy whiners, okay?

Un-merry'd Christmas

Today was our work party and I performed the following poems. Those of you who have heard my bitter single poetry before can probably imagine a little better how these would be performed, but those of you who haven't seen my performances can still use your imaginations.

Wretched

Snowflakes! Fall! From the Sky!
A Million-Billion
Snowflakes!
Laughing,
Dancing,
Twirling,
Swirling!

i am
alone

The snowflakes fall
like acid drops of loneliness
on my
formerly
beautiful
face.

Now wretched.



Un-merry’d Christmas

Dearest Santa, hear me wishin’:
I’ve been single since my mission.
I’m not mad, I’m not irate.
I simply wish to get a date.

I wish one man at BYU
would only want to date me, too.
But if no zoobie chooses me,
I’ll settle for UVSC.
(But please, no one from U of U—
We desperate girls have standards, too.)

Among the things that I’ve been missing
are cuddling, snuggling, hugs and kissing.
And no amount of mistletoe
has made a man kiss me. Although
not for lack of trying—see?
How can I make a man kiss me?

I want to follow Elder Oaks,
and keep my pantry locked so blokes
can’t eat my food and give me naught.
I try to do what I am taught.
But if I can’t give food for free,
How can I make a man kiss me?

I’ll wear red lipstick all this season!
To make men kiss me is the reason!
I’ll wear short skirts! (up to the knees)
And then I’ll flirt and laugh and tease!
The air will ring with tee-hee-hee’s
that say “come here and kiss me, please.”

I’ll tell men that I take ballet
(They won’t know it’s a lie, will they?
’Cause all girls know that guys like dancers.
Don’t ask my why—I have no answers.
Will they forgive a girl for lying?
After all, I’m only trying . . .)
to make them love me, kiss me, too!
And ain’t that worth a lie or two?

I never have played hard-to-get,
I simply haven’t tried it yet!
So maybe if I now pretend
I don’t like kisses, it will send
the message, “Kiss me! Kiss me quick!”
Perhaps deception is the trick!

I’ll wear pink sweaters all this year!
For pink attracts the men, I hear!
Then hordes of suitors will appear!
And one, perhaps, will hold me dear,
And love me with a love sincere . . .
And then, his lips to mine adhere.

Oh, dearest Santa, comprehend!
This year, I want a nice boyfriend!
A man who’ll love me for myself.
If not—could you send me an elf?




During the second poem, I suspended mistletoe over my head with a fishing rod. It was pretty good, but all the mistletoe was trashed before I ever made it home, so I might have to buy more before tonight's performance at my ward party.

Y [wear anything else] Week

So it's about finals time, meaning that we're finishing up projects and stuff and preparing for finals at the same time. And I have no creativity to dedicate to my wardrobe. I've been wearing my BYU sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and my jean jacket every day this week. Beautiful!