The Family of Pascual Duarte
Oh, I forgot to post about the book discussion that I led earlier this month. I picked the Family of Pascual Duarte, one of my most recently acquired favorite books. Last year we read excerpts of it in my Spanish Lit course in Spain with my favorite professor Antonio. And if Antonio liked it, I knew I was sure to like it.
The book (by Camilo José Cela) is about a guy in prison writing his memoirs. Unfortunately he kills a bunch of people and animals. It is a bit shocking and you feel really bad for poor Pascual and almost want to believe that he isn't a bad man like he first tells you. I don't wan't to give too much away, but know this, it is a great read. And I found it even more enriching the third time I read it.
I hate SPAM! -both the strange meat and the junk email.
Arrrrrgh. I left my flash drive in the computer lab on campus and when I went back to get it, it was gone. Someone up and stole my flash drive!!! I am so mad. I was mid-paper that was saved on it too (due tonight). Plus all my poetry was on it and everything I've written or designed in the past year. AND I have no backups! A bad day I should say.
Saturday I watched the Selena movie about the famous Mexican-American singer who was shot by her fan club president when she was only 23 years old. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Selena's music. My favorites are Amor Prohibido, I Could Fall in Love, Como la Flor, and Dreaming of You. I must say the movie was very sad; only imagine how much more great music she would have made if her life hadn't been so short. Jennifer Lopez played the part of Selena, and I think that is what launched her career.
A certain type of music that is upbeat featuring children singing in unison. Their voices are so high and fakely perfect that is utterly annoying. It makes my ears hurt --almost literally. Do you know what I am talking about? I absolutely despise that choiry, 9 year olds singing together, digitally revised, and eternally optimistic, painful music.
I miss those Batman and Barbie Valentines from elementary school. I used to like to get those little boxes of Nerds attached to the card, but hated to get those tart hearts with stupid messages on them. They still taste disgusting even 10 years later. And I remember always picking out the least 'lovey' cards for the yucky boys, since my mom made me write one out for everyone in the whole class. Awwwww.
He he he, I giggle in glee
Synopsis: girls in car, man approaches car, begins to wash car, they give him money, bam, guys start stripping and dancing beside car, Nelly's "It's Getting Hot in Here" plays, female screaming, flocks of men start pouring in to wash the car, most dirty old men, girl covers eyes pleading, "Tell me when it's over", naked cowboy shows up, Quote: "Guys can't keep their hand off it"
Then, when I got home I realized that I had spent the day displaying the giant sticker with the size on it right on the front of my jacket. I was mortified, and no one said, "hey. you got a size sticker stuck on your shirt" (where it was impossible to miss might I add). Somehow I used to have nightmares about stuff like this. Why do stores put those stupid stickers on clothes? They aren't helping anyone.

