THIS...IS....SPARTA(n territory)!!!

Well, seeing as how I’m no longer writing everyday for work, I’ve found myself wanting to write for fun again (at least for my enjoyment, if not for the enjoyment of others) so I’m hopefully going to start writing more.
That being said, I’m 4 days into my second round of college education, and while I could go on and on about people I’ve seen and met, I’ll reduce it to a collection of thoughts, which is pretty much how my days go by as I walk around campus.

Short booty shorts in the middle of winter…check.
Knee-high striped athletic socks to match the booty shorts…check
…under a pair of bring pink Crocs…give my fucking checks back

Unlike the mall, where I’m constantly assaulted with metrosexuals who want to spray me with something from a tube meant to make me more attractive, I’m somehow able to walk through the quad completely unharassed by the multitude of frats out trawling.
What, sure my hair is thinning a bit, but don’t I look like the kind of guy just aching to be saddled with some homoerotic nickname like “Hot Rod” or “Rocket” and power-slam blackberry brandy until my eyes explode?

On the topic of frats, one of them has a midget as their main spokesman, he’s out in the quad passing out buttons and inviting people to BBQs. No lie, I almost walked into the little bastard as I looked up to get raindrops on my tongue yesterday. He needs one of those little flags I had on my bike as a kid so people in trucks could see me as I rode past their driveway.

Listen you pompous fuck, I don’t care that you think your Liberal Arts/Art double major is the shit’s tits, you don’t need to “reveal” to us the secret that most mainstream literature is dumbed down for the masses, you don’t need to ask all of us to re-spell the email address we put on the sheet because you can’t tell the difference between a 1 (written just like that, with the little hat and the base) and an L, although no one in their right fucking mind writes their lowercase l in the same way my computer just did. When you get out of this class and school (and – for fucks sake – shave that stupid beard you’re attempting to grow, you look like a near-sighted scrotum).

There’s a “Listening Corner,” in the Student Union, where a kind old lady sits just about all day, and from what I can tell, she’s just there to listen to students. I think I may have to start sitting down and (a) making up problems or (b) telling very long, very drawn out jokes.

Speaking of jokes, today in my Shakespeare and Performance class, I read Sonnet #19 in what was supposed to be an Australian accent in honor of Heath Ledger (and his Shakespearean body of work – 10 Things I Hate About You) but ended up sounded very snooty and very English, bugger…

To the overly-PC Ethnicity in American Literature class: First of all, saying “American by immigration” is not a point of pride or a sensitive statement, it’s a fucking redundancy. On a long enough timeline, we’re ALL Americans by immigration, even the “Native” Americans who came to this continent from what is now Asia. And although I agree that if I see a black guy, I can’t assume he was born and raised in Africa, only brought over a week ago, but I can damn-well assume that SOMEWHERE in his lineage, SOMEONE was from Africa, because people with dark skin and those features originated there. Just as I can assume that someone who looks Asian (unless they’re Bjork) is from SOMEWHERE in Asia. That’s not a value judgment, its not a statement of “they should just be that thing, or just identify that way,” it’s a statement of genetic fact.