"Lyndon Johnson. Was he black?"

Oh, community college, you produced such interesting questions during lecture today.

I almost got in a fistfight about the pope today. Not Benny, JP II. Now kids, you know I'm a Questioning Catholic, like lots of good Catholic saints were. I attend mass sporadically, and I don't think the Church is infallible, and in some cases is even wrong (not that many, but a few; i.e., gay people may go to hell just like the rest of us, but not just for being gay). But that kid saying something nasty about JP II just pushed the wrong button in me. I had an outburst and our fearless leader had to simmer us down. I totally wanted to meet that guy at the flagpole at three o'clock.

You don't talk smack about the pope, you don't say Catholics worship statues, and you don't complain that mass is too long and you don't like all the kneeling. You can take the girl out of Catholic school, but you can't take Catholic school out of the girl.

Also, I had a conversation about South Texas today and I miss it more than I realized. I was very much in a Mac Davis, "Happiness is Lubbock, Texas, in my Rearview Mirror" mood when I got the hell out of Corpus, and now I'm a little worried that the end of that song will happen to me. I don't know if I want to be buried in a Jeep, per se, but dammit I may not have blood in my veins, it may be saltwater from the Laguna Madre. Eeew, seaweed, tar and jellyfish!

Mac Davis. You don't get enough of him. He warned me not to get hooked on him, he'd just use me, then set me free, oh but I didn't listen.

Skipped the movie yesterday in favor of napping and dinner with Matt the Miller Man. I mean, napping first and having dinner with Matt LATER. Don't want to start any unfounded rumors about myself; Matt and I are just good friends, and not in a People magazine quote kind of way. You never make better friends than the ones you keep from your childhood.

Also, you know those ladies at the bus stop with the umbrellas? I'm one of them. I hate being hot and I'm terrified of getting wrinkles so I walk around downtown Dallas with my lime green umbrella and I don't care who knows it.

In fact, it's NOT an umbrella, it's a parasol, and I love it so much, I even wore matching underpants the other day. Mock if you will, you sweaty, wrinkled bastards, but those bus stop ladies have shown me the way.

I saw a guy yesterday wearing goggles (like from chem lab) and red suspenders pushing an igloo cooler down the street. I would have given anything to know the back story on that one.