L.H.O.O.Q.: An encounter with funny frat boys

For those of you who are not familiar with Marcel Duchamp, he's the guy many people say ruined art forever because he hung a urinal on the wall and called it art. No matter what you think of his artistic vision, you have to admit he had a sense of humor. One of his more famous pieces is called L.H.O.O.Q. It's a cheap postcard of the Mona Lisa where he's drawn a mustache and goatee on her. The best part is that the letters L.H.O.O.Q. are written under the picture. When those letters are pronounced in French, they sound like "Elle a chaud au cul," which translates colloquially as "She is hot in the ass." Follow this link to enjoy.

All of this to say that boys always have and always will have potty humor.

On Friday I was walking to my nine o'clock class from where I always park my car on frat row, which is as close as I can get to school. It's early, I'm grumpy, and two young men are walking towards me taking up the whole sidewalk. I look up and immediately smell the reek of alcohol, which conceivably could be coming from the street, but I suspect is more likely emanating from my fellow early birds. So I look up just in time for the boy heading straight for me to look up at me and slur "Hey sexy! We're gonna go get naked, wanna come with us?".

I chuckle. I am at least five years older than this young man, and I feel quite certain that even if I did take him and his friend up on his offer to get naked that he would be at a loss as to what to do with me once we did. At any rate, these boys are quite hilarious in their way, so I thank them for their offer but reply that I'm afraid I have to get to class and keep walking.

I'm still laughing to myself, a few beats pass, and then the boy shouts back at me, "I love your ass!"

I laugh all the way to class.

Would you still love me if snot shot out of my eyeballs?

This is classic Pants. It's Friday night, 12:05 in the a.m. and we're still working on our briefs. We begin to reminiss about lunch the other day when Candy Girl and Slim shared their vomit-inducing mucus/pink eye stories and are laughing (see previous entry).

Then Pants decides it is time to test her man's love for her and give him a call. It's 1:05 am his time, but she just wants him to weigh in on the discussion (despite the fact that she is fully aware he is already asleep). She does this frequently, calling him to see how far she can push him. Sometimes it's just to bore him and tell him she bought new shoes or she found an apartment painted her favorite color. Other times it's to really rile him up to discuss subjects like the budget for her engagement ring, or perhaps if they should get a pre-nup. As in this case, she will call for these little chats at any hour that suits her. Fortunately, her man-love is a steadfast guy and knows how full of shit she is, so he just lets her do her thing.

So why did she call? She wanted to know if he would still love her if snot shout out of her eyes. Just like it happened to Slim on the plane, because Slim's boyfriend still loves her.

If this were me I would hang up the phone, but for some reason Pants's man-love calmly explains that he would still love her and, since he know physics, explains how the pressure in the plane caused it to happen. Wonders never cease. Maybe true love really does exist.

I got pink eye like it was my job

So after class, me (Texas), Pants, Tiny, EZ, Big N, Candy Girl and Slim all roll to lunch at the campus watering hole. Candy Girl shares with us that this morning before class that she had a major nose bleed. I advised her to stop doing so much coke to stay up for her papers. Anyway, she was in the bathroom with kleenex shoved up her nose trying to get it to stop and got a lot of funny looks from the other girls. You would think that the sex that bleeds regularly once a month wouldn't be troubled by a little nose bleed, but whatever.

At any rate, one girl says "Oh you poor thing, have you got a nose bleed?" Candy Girl says "Yeah, and if I could only get pink eye, it would be like I was eight again." This humor was wasted on the girl who just gave her a strange look and evaporated.

Pants asks, "What's pink eye?"
Candy Girl: "Oh shit, when I was a kid, I had pink eye like it was my job. It's this eye infection where it gets all swolen and crusty and you have to use a warm wash cloth to clean off the crud so you can open your eye when you wake up in the morning."

Then Slim blew us all away.

Slim: "I had to do the same thing once, but it wasn't for pink eye. I had this crazy sinus infection and I flew on the airplane and at one point i sneezed and then mucus started coming out of my eyeballs. I didn't even know it had happened until my boyfriend told me I needed to wipe my eyes because he was going to throw up. "

We were all stunned, but then followed with a flurry of questions.

Texas: "Was it coming out of your tear duct or actually your eye balls?"
Slim: "No, my eye ball."

I think it must have been coming out of the duct because I think it's connected to your sinnuses, but it's amazingly gross either way. My sushi did not look so good at this point -- it just looked like big chunks of mucus wrapped in rice.

Slim continued: "When I got of the plane, my boyfriend's friend, who we were meeting saw me and said 'Whoah, what happened to your face. My eyes were all swollen and my face was read, I mean, I know I looked gross."
Pants: "how far did the mucus shoot out?"
Slim: "I don't know."
Big N: "How long were you sick?"
Slim: "For like a week. For the flight back I took a ton of decongestants because I didn't want it to happen again."

Anyway, there were more questions and conversation, but that's all I remember. The thought of mucus coming out of the ol eyeballs is simutaneously repulsive and fascinating. Much like a baby with an extra head. Make sure to watch the slide show.

Watch the Monkeys

I decided to delete this posting because I fear it might get me into trouble. If you really want it, post a comment with your email and I'll consider sending it to you. Otherwise, sorry. It wasn't that great anyway.

Too Lazy to Pee

So it's the countdown to the appellate brief being done and tonight, we're all sitting around pretending to do work again. I (Texas) am probably going to be called on in class tomorrow so I am trying to read, but the rest of the jokers are basically wigging out. We finally have a moment of silence and Pants blurts out "You ever been too lazy to pee?" This produces a mixed bag of responses. Mirth from me, disbelief from Candy Girl, and EZ, ever helpful, offers to help Pants stand up. As though the real problem was just standing. Pants elaborates that the problem is that she doesn't want to put on her shoes as she won't "pee without my shoes in my own bathroom, much less in this disgusting one." Why it was necessary to take off her shoes in the first place I'll never know.

Pants then followed up with the fact that she and her man will often lay in bed and discuss their need to pee, but will decide that it's too much effort and will instead decide to roll over and sleep for another hour instead. EZ helpfully suggested that men may have greater bladder capacity. I don't buy it, unless their genitalia serves as a reservoir in addition to their bladder.

Pants rebuts her snobbery

rebuttal #1:

I think my comment had something more to the effect of new money = tacky. Seriously though, did you see what Beyoncé was wearing ?

rebuttal #2:

I don’t want anyone to think that I’m rich, because I definitely am not new money! I just like nice things, and I don’t have a problem with charging it =)

We're not gonna watch the Oscars, we're gonna work.

If you read the title of this, you know it's a lie.

So we have a massive paper, the appellate brief due next Thursday, It's 25 pages of pure , abject legal misery. It may give me an ulcer. At any rate, me (Texas), Pants, Candy Girl, and Tiny were all going to be done with it Oscar weekend. Yeah, right. So it's Sunday and we're all at school working hard and then Pants says let's go to the lounge and just watch the oscar pre-show.

For future reference please note that Pants is always the weak link.

So since it's all ladies in the study room and anything is better than workin, we roll to the lounge to check out the pre-show. The only channel available though has Star Jones. She was terrible. She basically asked every actor who has kids if he/she would mind if his/her child becomes an actor. The acting equivalent of "If you were a tree what kind of tree would you be?".

So finally the Star Jones horror comes to an end, and Pants suggests that we should stay and watch Chris Rock's opening number. Again, this is better than work, so we ladies readily agree. And then, the lounge betrays us! The f***ing parental lock engages because the Oscars are PG, and we are not going to be able to see Chris Rock's opener! We look at each other in horror and then rush to my house because I have the best setup for parties. En route, we call our sickly man-friend EZ knowing that he wants to hang with the girls and watch the Oscars. He rivals Pants in his fashion knowledge. Though he has been "Dying on the Vine" as my mother would say, he seems to experience a miracle cure, and manages to spring into his car and fly to mi casa. Fortunately we miss none of the Oscars.

The comment of the evening goes to Pants. When Beyoncé comes out in the black dress wearing practically her body weight in diamonds, Pants starts shaking her head and says "See, that's the problem with new money -- they just don't know when to quit." This cracks us up, because Pants is ethnic and is first generation American and has a fondness for LV and Manolos. E.g. new money. Halle Berry would be proud.

Law School is fo Suckas

We're bored, we're depressed, we're law students.

The following is an excerpt from a property law casebook (courtesy of D) that accurately sums up the experience of being in law school.
.....
Many people find the law of servitudes particularly confusing. In fact, many are so confused that they leave the subject thinking they know less than they did when they began and wishing they had never heard of servitudes, or - in a few documented cases - they abandon the study of law altogether...Entering the study of servitudes is a little like diving into a swamp at night, swimming and floundering in terror, and emerging quite fortuitously on some unknown shore in the morning. When it's all over you're sorry that it happened, you don't understand anything you saw but you know you didn't like it, and you are extremely grateful that you blundered out. Fortunately, falling into a swamp in most cases can be avoided. Unfortunately for a property lawyer, the study of servitudes cannot be.
.....

So sit back, relax, and enjoy watching this ship of fools sink into the Louisiana swamp.