Uhhhh....I am braindead. I gave a presentation in my feminism seminar today. I called it "Neo-Baroque Aesthetics and a Transmutable Gender." Wow, am I an intellectual or what? Bow down before me you plebian nightcrawlers. Go burrow your way through the dark, for lo, I am Ali: faker of smarts and orgasms. I give off my own light. It is a blacklight. Like the kind at a kinky Sadomasochist sex gathering. The one that comes equipped with an authentic 16th century Sicilian torture chamber. Yowza! Whips AND brains!
Anyway, I got to class and decided to make my presentation about something much more fun: MEEEEEEEEEE. Seriously, who cares about feminism when you can be flippant and self-loathing? I love me. No, I hate me. Both, tis' both. Sometimes I think I am eternally condemned to confusion. Don't let my strong opinions and brassy speeches fool you, I am a tender lil' amoeba, swirling around in the big vat of primordial goop that we call life. I think there's probably a better metaphor there, but like I said, I am braindead.