Class II

Tonight was our second class for feature writing. The whistler didn't show. I'm guessing he found the blog and was too scared by the high-pitched nose-squeal I was gonna unleash on him. Instead, I sat next to a very attractive girl who works for Telemundo and Univision. I didn't want to expose her to the siren I had built up, so I breathed through my mouth all night. I'm sure she was very impressed.

Once again, there wasn't all that much information presented. Our homework last time was to bring in a feature article to discuss tonight. I grabbed a copy of the New Yorker and read an article over my lunch break today. He called on me to share first, and I wasn't ready for that, so I talked way too much. Or so I thought...

Everyone else kept going on and on about their article and why they loved it and blah blah blah. We were a class of eighteen, and it was an hour and fifteen minutes in before we got to the lecture. I was tired and damned near suicidal by the end of it. The low point of the night was when some annoying lady kept going on about some article in a new magazine whose motto is "Celebrate your child's love of learning." Yucko. She identified with the article's author who was talking about loving her children even when they're annoying or some crap like that. I dunno what she was saying -- my eyes glaze over even now just thinking about it. But then she said:

...and I understood! I mean, it's easy to love my kids when they're asleep, and I can say 'Oh, look at my little angel!', but it's harder when my child won't eat the food, the ORGANIC food I made for him...

and at that moment, my eyes snapped back into focus, and I used my hate of her to boost my energy reserves for the rest of the evening. "And Jed was sooo angry"

The highlight of the evening for me came before class, when a Korean lady whom I had introduced myself to minutes before, came over asked me to explain some confusing terminology in her article on low-rise jeans. There is no way a foreigner can understand what a "muffin-top" means when he/she reads it, nor is there a graceful way to explain what one is. But I managed, using my belly as an example. Then, she asked me to explain the sentence: I see more cracks at a nightclub than I do in the paint on an old barn! That one was a little more difficult to explain. I believe at one point I made a cupping motion with my hands and then ran a finger down where the asscrack goes. Sufficiently embarrassed, she didn't ask me for anymore help all night. The Telemundo girl was, again, veeeery impressed.