11th
And THESE corsets give the OTHER person welts
So I’m taking this speech class right now during an 8 week turbo semester at SMC (long story, let’s just move on).
I knew this class would be full of magic and blogoid inspiration when the professor told us on the first day that she was “electromagnetically sensitive”. Intensely so. She must stand on a yoga mat that is PLUGGED INTO THE WALL or else she can feel the building’s WiFi scrabbling her internal organs. The class is like a 2.5 hour airplane take off: all phones and computers must be stowed away and turned off, lest we blow her brain fuses. But for the past two weeks we’ve had a sub because she’s been stricken ill! At first we jokingly tried to guess the small electronic that cast her into the realm of bedridden-ness, but then recoiled in guilt when we heard she had the pig plague.
Today a portly latino boy with the dimensions of a habeñero pepper approached the podium. He was mohawked and had a poster board of Bettie Page in tow. It takes a lot to grab my attention, with my primitive reptilian brain and all. But I was hooked on his words like a barnacle on a mermaid’s ass. His speech was about his time as a FREELANCE DOMINATRIX IN LA, VEGAS, NEW YORK AND AMSTERDAM TO SUPPORT HIMSELF THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL. As he discussed the minutiae of a Dom’s life “and THESE corsets give you welts,” I scanned the room. The chubby students were nodding in understanding.
