there's too much estrogen up in herrre--take off all your clothes! let's break it down. imagine the scene if you will. jon walks into a room, all heads turn around (because i'm late, as usual). all forty female heads turn around. no males. just females. what the?!? is this the fuel for nightmares? for dreams? am i in heaven? or just a very segregated and complicated hell? is this venus? did i swing a left when i shoulda scooted a right and somehow ended up in some giant women's bathroom? is this the amazon? what the hell? where am i? a-ha. women in english literature: the brontes.



i've seen movies where a guy takes a feminism class, to either get in touch with his feminine side, or to pick up chicks. this character sits smack dab in the middle of hundreds of women and everyone giggles when he raises his hand in class to spout male macho-isms. i however, snuck to the nearest available back corner and tried to blend in. among the ponytails, the long flowing hair, the bared upper arms, the perfumed scent of feminine rage. i ask again, what am i doing here?



honestly, i don't want to take this class. but i need to. all the other 3:30-4:50pm classes are either closed or cancelled. i don't want to read about jane eyre. i don't want to be drenchingly nauseated by romance. but if i must. i will. i will shoulder this burden for the good of my eventual undergraduate degree. i looked around in a quiet panic, scanning the room for signs of subtelligent malean life. where are my brothers? i cannot fight this war alone! i need wing men, boys to men, men-at-arms, se(a)men, or quite simply, men! not men-strual cycles! what the........this could prove to be interesting........