So many random things have been happening recently, and I keep meaning to blog about them, but I never get around to it for some strange reason. Laziness. Sleep. Procrastination. Writer’s block. Vampire Diaries. Being Human (The TV show, not the state of actually being a human, although that does apply to me as well. Maybe. Sometimes it really doesn’t feel like it.) Anyway, pick your excuse of choice, delete as applicable blah blah blah and let’s get on with it. Just a warning though, I have so many things to say that I fear this may turn into an essay. Continue reading at your own peril, and don’t say you weren’t warned.
First on the agenda would have to be Bobbette the transvestite prostitute. That is, after all, the title of my post and it’s only fair to leave you hanging for so long. This is a long-ish story and you are more than welcome to leave at any time you want. To paraphrase one of our wonderful (not even being sarcastic here!) lecturers, if you want to go for a wee wee you don’t have to put up your hand, just go quietly. I think the same rules should apply if you want to run away in terror. So Bobbette, where did it all go wrong??? In our 9 am lecture, I was separated from the rest of the Lake’s by some thoughtless person who had previously stuck a big wad of chewing gum to the back of the chair. Thanks a bunch, loser! Obviously, neither Emily nor I wanted to sit there, so I was like a little island, while Amanda, Kathleen and Emily formed the mainland. They were Asia and I was Sri Lanka, if that makes it easier for you to imagine. It proves that John Donne was wrong though when he said that “No man is an island” (I know I’ve taken that quote way out of context. I also know that I don’t care.), because I so was, bobbing there all on my own like the leftovers. Not that I’m a man, but I feel that in today’s politically over-correct times, he would have been placed under immense pressure to change that to ‘no being of any gender, race, ethnicity, weight, height or unspecified difference is an island'.
Anyway. The point is, I felt there was a huge gap between Emily and I, and I wanted to fill it. So on an A4 piece of paper, where I should have been making notes (I never said the lecture was that good, and I was doped up on strong painkillers) I drew a stickman called Bob, gave him some hair, eyes, nose and a mouth, and sat him down in the empty chair. Gap solved. Then Kathleen got her paws on my lovely drawing, and he was never the same again. S/he now looks like a serious candidate for a psychiatrist, or even the Jeremy Kyle show- and that’s when you know you’ve hit rock bottom. Does Graham the therapist actually ever help anyone? Ever??? Get in touch with the Lake's if he’s helped you out.
Back to Bob. He’s still Bob underneath, but Bobbette is his alter ego and it appears for the time being, she’s here to stay. Like cockroaches. And global warming. She still has a hairy body, including a monobrow because she is still technically a man. Which doesn’t explain why s/he has lady bumps on top (you know what I’m talking about). I think Kathleen has become even more confused than usual. We also decided she, Bobbette not Kathleen, has to be a prostitute, because that is very clearly prostitute makeup. Not that I/we have any personal experience with prostitutes, but we have imaginations. And semantic memories (I do pick stuff up in lectures, despite what y’all may think!). Although I’m not sure who would ever be desperate enough to hire her. She might just have to go back to being plain old Bob and be done with it. So that’s the life and times of Bob/bette, the transvestite prostitute. She’s had a hard life and can clearly look forward to several years of intensive therapy, can we not judge her too harshly please? Many thanks.
Anyway. The point is, I felt there was a huge gap between Emily and I, and I wanted to fill it. So on an A4 piece of paper, where I should have been making notes (I never said the lecture was that good, and I was doped up on strong painkillers) I drew a stickman called Bob, gave him some hair, eyes, nose and a mouth, and sat him down in the empty chair. Gap solved. Then Kathleen got her paws on my lovely drawing, and he was never the same again. S/he now looks like a serious candidate for a psychiatrist, or even the Jeremy Kyle show- and that’s when you know you’ve hit rock bottom. Does Graham the therapist actually ever help anyone? Ever??? Get in touch with the Lake's if he’s helped you out.
Back to Bob. He’s still Bob underneath, but Bobbette is his alter ego and it appears for the time being, she’s here to stay. Like cockroaches. And global warming. She still has a hairy body, including a monobrow because she is still technically a man. Which doesn’t explain why s/he has lady bumps on top (you know what I’m talking about). I think Kathleen has become even more confused than usual. We also decided she, Bobbette not Kathleen, has to be a prostitute, because that is very clearly prostitute makeup. Not that I/we have any personal experience with prostitutes, but we have imaginations. And semantic memories (I do pick stuff up in lectures, despite what y’all may think!). Although I’m not sure who would ever be desperate enough to hire her. She might just have to go back to being plain old Bob and be done with it. So that’s the life and times of Bob/bette, the transvestite prostitute. She’s had a hard life and can clearly look forward to several years of intensive therapy, can we not judge her too harshly please? Many thanks.
OK, now it's time for something that has absolutely no relevance whatsoever to anything I've been talking about, but nevertheless something that has kept me in a good mood most of the day today. It's from a song that's about 2 years old, but I just heard it last night while re-watching the Vampire Diaries. I think this is one of the most genius lyrics I have ever heard:
"Tell your boyfriend,
If he says he's got beef,
That I'm a vegetarian,
And I ain't f***ing scared of him."- 3oh!3 'Don't Trust Me'
Alas, all good things must come to an end, and so too must this post. "It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."- Ralph Waldo Emerson ( Do you think he knew Bobbette too?)
Love, Lalita xxx
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