I have some wonderfully crazy friends at school. Earlier this week one of my bra straps was showing. "Bess!" cried Adam. "Hide your shame!" Now he throws this phrase at me and tuts whenever so much as my ankles are exposed.

Me: "You know what, Adam? Ghandi would've smacked you up side the head."

My classes rarely stay on topic. In physics the other day, we managed to find our way to the subject of pregnancy and were content to stay there for the better part of the period. Many absurd questions are asked at times such as these solely for the sake of absurdity. One of my classmates wondered whether or not we could remain attached to our mothers by umbilical cord for our entire life, and if so, would we then be able to go through life without eating or breathing. ("That would be, like, so tight.") Cleatus the Fetus was drawn on the board. It was decided that he should be our school mascot along with Ziggy the Zygote, Mo the Embryo, and Ignatius the Infant. We then thought it wise to appoint each of these specimens to the appropriate high school class. I think I'll refer to the freshmen as zygotes for the rest of the year.

Taking both American and English Literature at the same time is probably affecting my brain. I read Jonathan Edwards's sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" last night for homework. And here I had thought the Catholics had guilt-mongering down to an art. Puritans -- sheesh. That said, Chaucer rocks my socks.