I made this!

This is what I do in grad school.

I just realized that I use the word "sexy" in 83% of these entries

But don't worry! Such a realization will not deter me from exploring the VERY IMPORTANT TOPIC that is on hand today.

I have been living in New York Cit-ay for about 2 and a half glorious years now, and, after much careful observation and note-taking and rampant judging, I am ready to share with you my very deep thoughts on a disturbing trend: people reading erotica on the subway.

We all know that the NYC Subway is a literal den (n. dark, underground place) of iniquity. However, while I may have adjusted to the idea that bums could pee on me while I'm down there, I will almost certainly see puke and old people are probably going to grope each other (actually, no, I'm still not okay with that last one), I cannot wrap my head around the idea that the guy sitting next to me on my commute is reading crazy SEXY tales of sexiness and intrigue.

Who is this fun for? Nothing against intrigue and sexiness (and probably also pirates and/or lesbians and/or piresbians. Wait, that's not in your erotica?), but how can you really let yourself get super-excited about your delightfully saucy pirate lesbians when you're on a crowded train?

The 8:45 AM F train doesn't seem the best environment for, um, immersing yourself in the story. How will you really give due attention to all the little nuances of the story - the literary easter eggs that I'm sure are hidden throughout the text? Also, how do you feel sexy on a train? All kinds of strangers are touching you, and not in an interesting, naughty way, but more like in a creepy, smelly way. I just don't know how people get in the mood for this sort of thing.

Maybe they actually started reading the night before - in their boudoir, draped in velvet, or whatever would be appropriate - and the story was just SO GOOD they couldn't wait to see what happened next. Like, does the lesbian pirate queen fall for the manly wiles of Raul, the secret castaway and the only man for miles? I MUST KNOW.

A sound theory, but it still doesn't explain why people feel the need to reach the end of their tale RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. Have you people not heard of book covers? Paper bags? The kindle? Anything that will keep me from having to read titles like "Lesbian Pirates of the Future II: The Treasure is Buried Deeper This Time" first thing in the morning?

Or is that part of the excitement - knowing that people know what you're reading? Is it like the poor man's version of the Mile High Club, where the whole thrill is knowing that everyone else knows what you're doing, and that some poor sap has to sit next to you for the next three hours before landing in St. Louis?

What if it's more than just PART of the excitement, and some of these supposed erotica readers are actually deeply involved in "The Good Earth" but, for the sake of badassery and freaking others out, has replaced that book's cover with "Lesbian Pirates." Probably gives them more space on the crowded commute. In fact, next time you think you see me reading Head Bangers: An APF Sexcapade (Strebor Quickiez) by Zane, don't get freaked out -- I'm just trying to keep the real sickos from bugging me on my commute.

This is how I treat my friends...

Jolly just got a real freelancing writer job offer. That's really great. Here is how I congratulated him (via gchat because i'm an incredible friend.):

me: jolly, 1) that's awesome, congrats!
2) would you call someone who had gotten their foot sliced off "depedicated?"
i can't think of anyone else to ask that wouldn't get freaked out

John: haha
um . . . i don't know if that's a real word, but that sounds like what it would be

me: awesome
that's a load off my mind

Lucky for me, nothing disturbs Jolly anymore, so instead of trying to talk more about his awesome new job, he sends me this:

depeditate

/dee-ped'*-tayt/ [by (faulty) analogy with "decapitate"]
Humorously, to cut off the feet of.  When one is using some
computer-aided typesetting tools, careless placement of text
blocks within a page or above a rule can result in chopped-off
letter descenders.  Such letters are said to have been
depeditated.

(I was so close to being a word genius! Blast!)

me: humorously, eh?

John: haha

i think it's more of a media term

me: like, omg, that girl was just depeditated...ha

John: but it does mean to have the feet cut off

by a roller coaster!

John: HI-LARIOUS!

me: i'm going to coney island tonight

Thus did I, your trusty blog heroine, deftly turn the conversation away from my friend's great achievements (Bo-ring!) and towards an in-depth discussion of a Christopher Pike book that showed young and impressionable thelaurenbell all the horrible ways I could die at Coney Island.

That's what friends are for.

*(per Jolly's lightning-fast comment): I also made him read a lengthy description of a funhouse statue that is both projectile vomiting and suffering from explosive diarrhea. Really the only proper mental image to have when considering a job offer.

I'm actually not angry this time...also not really funny...

I've started reading Watership Down. No, I don't particularly like rabbits, and, yes, I am over the age of eleven. I picked it up in an effort to fix a bit of a problem I've been having: I cannot stop referencing this book.

For years now, every time I've seen anything featuring, or even resembling, rabbits, I have had the horrible compulsion to blurt out, "Ohmygod Ohmygod -- it's totally like Watership Down you guys!" The numerous occasions that communists, furry bands of animals, or some combination of the two, have made it into conversations with friends (you'd be surprised at how often this happens...or would you?), I HAD to bring up Hazel, Fiver and the gang. It's gotten so bad that, though this hasn't happened yet, I can assure you if I saw a ship on the water go down somewhere, I would certainly attempt a pun on everyone's favorite rabbit-based novel.

The weird part (aside from, you know, all those other parts I just talked about): I haven't even seen the book since I was about nine years old.

Watership Down is, in fact, just one in a long line of classic, beloved works of fiction that I recklessly, wantonly and probably erroneously bring up in my daily conversations.

The boss leaves our relatively youthful office alone for the day? Suddenly I'm making cracks about Lord of the Flies. I rushed through that one once, in a blind dash of terror, sometime around the 8th grade.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas I have a bit more context for because I'm creepy and I've actually read the book (and seen the movie) recently, but that doesn't make it any less weird when I start growling about a trunk full of mescaline and a massive bat-fight in the desert.

Why have I let myself become this person? I think it's partly human nature - we like joining in the cultural conversation, embedding our lives into the bigger picture by picking up on things that are popular and connecting them to our own lives.

People reference stupid movies all the time. Because I enjoy getting beat up by common grade school thugs, I'm doing the same thing -- just with books. When you stand on a railing and scream, "I'm king of the world!" (or, more likely, unless you were a 14 year old girl when Titanic came out and you saw it 9 times in the theatre, some ridiculous bastardization like, "I'm on top of the world!" "I'm the king!" or "Fuck yeah!"), it's like me trying to sneak a Hemingway mention into conversation any time there's excessive drinking and manliness going on. You know what I'm going for, even if it's not dead-on.

If a book really is a cultural icon (and I hope to god that's still a possibility), is referencing one really that much lamer than quoting Anchorman for the billionth time? Sure, Gatsby may not be as endlessly amusing, but I'm betting he has many leather-bound books, and his home smells of rich mahogany.