Still don’t know what antidiluvian means.

Ah, God smiled on me today. It’s like He said, “Okay. I get it. You’re a little stressed because you’ve been up at five o’clock for the past nine weeks and you still feel nauseous when you think about taking the GRE and yeah, you really should get on that, so I’ll give you a little something.”

A little something called NO METHODS CLASS. Oh sweet baby Jesus, that was amazing. I’m not sure my wedding day will be this thrilling. Because today we were due to discuss two articles on post-war gender studies, the first about how lesbianism and prostitution are both considered sexual deviancy and I don’t know, I kind of tuned out after that, and the second about how pinup girls are more than “masturbatory aids”. (I could seriously cite that for you if you’d like. It came from a real academic article. I hate the world.)

Ookay. I don’t understand what, exactly, that has to do with Marxist historical theory or writing a thesis. I mean, I still don’t really understand what Marxist historical theory is (even after last week’s three hour seminar on it).

And I’m writing my thesis on an ecumenical council.

Now, granted, I haven’t read all of the Vatican II documents but so far I haven’t come across anything that involves Betty Grable, or her legs, or how her legs weren’t really valued for their sexiness but for their Americaness (that’s not a word, but you know what I mean).

Maybe those just haven’t been translated to English yet.

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