I went to lunch in Fortuna buffet restaurant the other day. It's in the Sky Tower complex, but not actually up the Sky Tower. So no nice view, as opposed to the Observatory, up in the Sky Tower, with both a wonderful view and a great salad bar. I've decided that watching the masses eat, especially loud, crass people who stuff themselves, makes my skin crawl. I'm such a hermit. I love my friends, and doing the obscure things that I think are awesome (like rpgs, and going swimming and running, and to some gigs - yay Kora!) but apart from that I don't really like The Mob. I think Aristotle and I would agree on this point.
Also, their "vegetarian" selection was piss-poor (parentheses denotes probablity that the ingredients they use are anything but). They didn't have anything vegan apart from sundried tomatoes, and they were probably preserved in lactic acid or something equally tasty. Well arse to Fortuna, I ate all their sundried tomatoes. I wanted to get my $20 worth. Of course, the deliciousness of food-related revenge is rather cheapened by feeling sick for the rest of the day. Note to self: dried fruit and veges are dried. They will swell in my stomach.
Today I had a wonderful discussion with a friend of mine about the pros and cons of Roman vs. Greek history. I'm on the Greek side: their wars were more interesting, as was their culture. The problem being that whilst the squirrels in the smart camp are figuring out which book binding is the most expedient, there are other squirrels, who are basically illiterate, whittling large, sharp, pointy sticks. This is, in my view, the essential problem with history. History is written by the winners, but the winners are often ignorant thugs.
I've been called extreme in my dislike of Roman society.
Phooey.
I am the most pervy lady at the moment. I'm going through one of my man's-brain-in-a-lady's-body months. I'm hitting on straight girls, giving my male friends advice on how to get into straight-curious girls' pants. Traitor to the team. Well I wouldn't be if I had a girl of my own. Cough cough. (See previous entries for why the thing with girl I know fell through. Read: mad woman).
Guilty pleasure: being given the undivided attention of all my geek male friends at the same time, when a few of them have a 'thing' for me. I'm good, I don't mess with their heads, but it's still nice. Indulging in ego...
Also, their "vegetarian" selection was piss-poor (parentheses denotes probablity that the ingredients they use are anything but). They didn't have anything vegan apart from sundried tomatoes, and they were probably preserved in lactic acid or something equally tasty. Well arse to Fortuna, I ate all their sundried tomatoes. I wanted to get my $20 worth. Of course, the deliciousness of food-related revenge is rather cheapened by feeling sick for the rest of the day. Note to self: dried fruit and veges are dried. They will swell in my stomach.
Today I had a wonderful discussion with a friend of mine about the pros and cons of Roman vs. Greek history. I'm on the Greek side: their wars were more interesting, as was their culture. The problem being that whilst the squirrels in the smart camp are figuring out which book binding is the most expedient, there are other squirrels, who are basically illiterate, whittling large, sharp, pointy sticks. This is, in my view, the essential problem with history. History is written by the winners, but the winners are often ignorant thugs.
I've been called extreme in my dislike of Roman society.
Phooey.
I am the most pervy lady at the moment. I'm going through one of my man's-brain-in-a-lady's-body months. I'm hitting on straight girls, giving my male friends advice on how to get into straight-curious girls' pants. Traitor to the team. Well I wouldn't be if I had a girl of my own. Cough cough. (See previous entries for why the thing with girl I know fell through. Read: mad woman).
Guilty pleasure: being given the undivided attention of all my geek male friends at the same time, when a few of them have a 'thing' for me. I'm good, I don't mess with their heads, but it's still nice. Indulging in ego...
Life here is pretty good. The final semester is fairly madcap, so I shouldn't be around here as much as I was last time. I do school, i climb, i sleep, i repeat.
And in my book, if you're helping people get laid and everyone comes out happy, you're not betraying any team. Except the stuffy people. Screw the stuffy people.
[Edited on Oct 12, 2005 10:03AM]