...the next time I see you. Thus typos Vanilla the Theatre Boy.
This is a Random Post.
C.S. Lewis wrote in the nineteen thirties that the notion of romantic love was invented by Medieval troubadors. Interesting enough, this was long before he met his great love, Joy Gersham.
Courtly love was silly.
The Song of Solomon was less silly, though I'm not sure how I would feel about having my breasts compared to baby deer. Not to mention the whole teeth-as-sheep image; I mean, I get the whole snowy-white thing, but sheep are kind of...wooly. When my teeth feel fuzzy, it means I need to brush them.
I want to have WildRampantSex (tm) with Beowulf. But he is several hours away, and tired from the even longer drive from M.O.U.S. land, and we're good Xian kids who know better. But still. A girl has needs. Silly vows of abstinence.
I still haven't really started that dang essay--it's a five-pager--so I'm going to be up for a while. With no caffeine. God help me.
I think I will add a blogroll to this thing. Hm.
Beowulf is online and telling me how much he wants to fuck me, so...