I received the only sweater in the world today from my parents. See y’all in ten years maybe, because this bitch has GRADUATED.
I have to give a presentation in my Music and American Literature class tomorrow on any band or musician and I’ve selected The Smiths because I’m in college and I’m predictable, but I have a plan to make the class hate me just a little bit more than they already do. (Maybe I haven’t addressed this before but this class is a small seminar of maybe fourteen women, plucked from a selection of high school Terry Pratchett fan clubs and what I can only assume are tiny towns where everybody marries their high school sweethearts. No joke, half of them are either married or divorced. The other half seem to think I’m a turd for embracing any semblance of youth culture. They’re usually talking about Pinterest recipes when I come in and then I say hi and they lower their gazes and I get to spend the next three hours pretending I’m paying attention to their feeeeelings about jazz.)
Anyway, I’m totally wearing this sweater tomorrow during my presentation. And about halfway through I’m gonna be all “Oh jeez, it’s hot in here.” And then I’m gonna take off my sweater and reveal the Morrissey t shirt I made when I was 18 and just not even acknowledge that there’s anything weird or obsessive going on on my chest. Just gonna let them think the worst thoughts about me. Maybe I’ll eat a bag of Gardettos and sing along to “The Headmaster Ritual” inches away from one of their noses. It’s the last class, so we’ll see how it goes.
