It must be spring

The crazies are out. For example: trash-talking me while I’m standing five feet away and then trying to pretend as if everything is jolly good = crazy. Someone has never heard of karma, and probably wouldn’t know it if it sucker-punched them in the face (though then again, hopelessness is a sin).

Speaking of crazies: Nature has awakened, the seedpods are cracking, and the dendrophiliacs are loose in the Sarah P. Duke Gardens. I don’t recommend going in there after hours.

There is something subconscious (or supernatural) about the fact that all of my skirts appear to be shrinking in the wash.

The sun is shining and illuminating the dreadful fact that my skin is so stark white as to make blind people flinch (no offense to blind people, who have to put up with a whole lot more crap than I do). I might as well be playing a molar in one of those commercials for tooth-whitening strips… Do I choose to spend my money on inspiring literature or package deals at the moderately (as opposed to totally) sketchy tanning salon? I think I’m going to have to settle this internal debate by blowing all available funds at the pub.

Justin Timberlake is beginning to look like… well, a man. I’m not sure if this has something to do with the fact that I am constantly bombarded with images of him – and am slowly caving on – or if some bad motherfucker really did rub off on him as of late.

“300” is almost out – and these last few days are going in a kind of cinematic slow-motion, with angels trumpeting in the background. I feel like I’m sixteen again. If “300” fails to pleasure me – there’s always “The Host” to finish the job.

I think I like Jose Mourinho. Yes, I am typing this with a straight face. For he is the special one.

Speaking of “elite institutions of higher learning”

Another day, another gem published in The Chronicle:

Now, for the sake of context, please check out the column that the fine gentleman is referencing. Got all that? Now on to the gem:

Jacqui Detwiler asks “why on earth” parents would not want their daughters spared from STDs (“‘H’ is for ‘Hussy,'” Feb. 28). The condescending rhetoric aside, we know the only sure way of doing that is to altogether avoid premarital sex-not to receive injections of Gardasil. But Detwiler’s column portrays the opponents of forced HPV vaccination as arrogant fools: First, she bills them as ignorant, then as hypocritical, then as self-righteous (an easy stereotype), and finally as motivated by blind fear. In fact, however, there are many people who think that there is something more important than living a sexually active life free of anxiety, more important even than a simple (though essential) resistance to the tyranny of forcing new and unnecessary drugs into the bodies of others.

In truth, many of the people Detwiler criticizes are young girls themselves, often religiously motivated, who want to and will lead chaste lives. Others are the young men who will one day wed these girls. To them, the “hookup” is never an option because they recognize that sex transcends the carnal; the bodies of their future wives are sacred realms into which they dare not trespass without the blessing of the Church and the hand of God for guidance. These should not be forced to waste money and incur health risks for a vaccine that they will never require. They think, as I do, that it is a grave disservice to our country to make public policy on the assumption that our children cannot control their sexual desires. I pray Detwiler will refrain from a pathetic and insulting portrayal of these good men and women in the future.

Justin Noia

Pratt ’09

Justin, honey, I know you’re like, a sophomore, and so I won’t be hypocritical: when I was a sophomore, I said and wrote a lot of stupid stuff too. You are in Pratt, however, and considering how smug engineers are toward us Trini-tards (no offense to mentally challenged people, most of whom are probably better human beings than I, intended), I expected better, to be honest.

I will respond in bullet-form, to make it easy on you:

a) “…many of the people Detwiler criticizes are young girls themselves, often religiously motivated, who want to and will lead chaste lives. Others are the young men who will one day wed these girls.” – This is garden-variety sexism, and most suave anti-boinkers are above that. The girls, you see, are “chaste” – but we don’t mention anything about the guys, other than the fact that they, one day, will want to “wed” these comely madonnas. Please. You’re a Duke student, get your rhetoric right!!! The Chronicle staff that let this one pass into the public realm? They’re all laughing at you right now, Justin. They might talk about “diversity of opinion” and whatnot, but in reality, they just want you make a fool of yourself. And you succeed admirably.

b) “A vaccine they will never require”? What kind of world do you live in, J? You may be too busy envisioning your pure and sacred wedding night, but the rest of us are looking around, and are noticing that… people cheat on each other. That inanimate “sacred realm” you’re harping on about – she (I know it’s hard to think of her as a human being, but for Eru’s sake, try) may very well get cancer, and die, after her dearly beloved succumbs to a little temptation on a Vegas business trip.

c) Speaking of the world we live in… Ever heard of “sexual assault”? I know, I know, you’re convinced that sexual assault is something that happens to drunken “bad girls” as they crawl home at 4 a.m. with a bottle of rum under their arm and their panties on their head (not that this would somehow make it OK to assault a woman – no matter what your high-minded ideals of “purity” require)… But since we’re arguing over whether or not the vaccine should be required for EVERYONE, as opposed to only said “bad girls,” here’s a little wake-up call for you: The majority of women are raped by someone they know and trust. A friend of mine was gang-raped at thirteen by four thugs on the stairwell of her apartment building – perhaps she also deserves to get cancer and die? How about the girl who was raped by her uncle? The girl raped by her teacher? The girl raped by her best friend? Oh, and the one who was forced to do it at knife-point by her, and I know you’ll appreciate this, “Christian” boyfriend? They met at Sunday school! I hate to break it to you, but for as long as sex, in many instances, remains involuntary, so should a life-saving vaccine.

d) It’s funny that you’re not out campaigning against seat-belts, J. I mean, come on, by your own brilliant logic – they encourage a life of speeding, also “free of anxiety” – or relatively free, at least. How about airbags? Or sterile hypodermic needles? – I mean, they might encourage some heroin-addicts to let go of their anxiety! Nicorette gum? It encourages people to lead an anxiety-free “smoking existence”! Flouride? It encourages people to eat sweets with impunity! I won’t even get into something like condoms, fie fie fie!!!

How about we finally come out and say what’s really going on here: J-man thinks that girls who’ve ever had a wee-wee up their hoo-hah are dirty, disgusting little minxes. And they should be punished. Cancer is a wonderful means of delivering said punishment – it’s so much more mysterious and indirect than, say, throwing a bunch of rocks and splitting the minxes’ skulls open. Why, you can practically claim that it’s divinely ordained!

Ah, Duke. The one thing I can say about this place is that it never, ever gets boring. *smoochies*

Intellectual Cyclists on a Rampage: A Horror Story

In the past month, I’ve experienced three near-collisions. Not because I was wasted (shut up, everyone), not because I was freshening up my mascara in the rearview mirror, and certainly not because I was receiving road-head, but because… and I’m going to take a few deep breaths here… Bicyclists. On. Campus. Think. They. Are. Bloody. Pedestrians.

Newsflash for you, Walter Cronkite (no, this expression does not get old – I refuse to believe it) – bicycles move faster than pedestrians. And I am not a cage-fighter, my reflexes simply do not allow me to brake in time if you suddenly decide to zip across my lane without signaling.

Signaling is essential. I learned it when I was six. I was not, as much as I hate to admit it, a wunderkind – it wasn’t hard. Tying my shoelaces and mixing a decent martini were much bigger battles… *cough*

Sharing and caring is also a concept that the majority of us learn early on, unless we happen to be sociopaths, of course. One of the good things about cycling on campus is the fact that most people who drive cars understand said concept fairly well – unlike in other environments. Getting on a bike to go from your dorm to your chemistry class is cheap and convenient – and better than subjecting yourself to the infernal horrors of the bus system. The good things in life are free, or almost free, and learning basic bike etiquette is not a huge price to pay.

The girl who abandoned her lane and decided to turn left, without signaling or as much as looking, right when I was gearing up to pass her (cars move faster than bicycles, it’s a fact of life, much like death and taxes), she knew nothing about sharing and caring. I was turning right, so when I slid to a stop next to her, heart still firmly lodged in throat, I rolled my window and said, as politely as possible, “Could you please signal next time?”

Her ears were plugged up and her iPod was blaring so loudly that even I could hear the semi-mournful notes of Death Cab for Cutie – an oddly appropriate choice, all things considered. She didn’t hear me as she proceeded to dart across the road in front of an oncoming pick-up, firmly convinced that the pedestrian crossing would throw up a protective force-field around her. The pick-up’s brakes screeched, but she didn’t hear them either, of course.

Tragedy was avoided at the last possible minute and the Greek chorus in my head wandered off in search of wood-nymphs in the surrounding Duke Forest.

I hate car-culture with a passion (I wish I wasn’t forced to participate in it) – but even this was a bit much. Almost as bad, in fact, as that time earlier in the week when I was headed off campus – and a cyclist decided to pass another cyclist by veering off his lane and smack in front of me without so much as a signal or a backward glance – while we were on a frickin’ bridge.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is happening all around a place that is, the last time I checked, an elite establishment of higher learning. Off of to East Campus, within feet of the university – cyclists tend to be polite and watchful and unencumbered with blaring iPods.

This entire thing is a Holmes-worthy mystery of enormous proportions, but I am too busy trying to avoid maiming people to solve it.

“saudi do f*** with woman”

Naughty, naughty words edited as to not encourage anyone

… Is the latest search-hit for this wee little blog.

Is this person merely looking for porn?

Or confirmation – as in “saudi do f*** with woman”?

The Saudis, like the rest of us, have to procreate somehow – but one never knows for sure (People often claim that I was hatched from an egg, for example – and not because they wish to compare me to Helen of Troy. *sniff*).

Or perhaps the real question that is being asked is: “saudi do f*** with woman” – as opposed to, say, a koala bear.

Anyway, this is just to say that I don’t have the answers, pilgrim – no one who lives in the post-modern age does.