It's A Hard World

[bloodyrosemccoy]

Twelfth Night

 

*snorf*

 

Figures. I go back to school tomorrow and I’ve got a cold.

 

And in truly awful news, I just found out I can’t take the juggling class I was registered for.  It conflicts with one of my other classes. Curses!  I was finally going to learn how to keep three oranges in the air for a prolonged period of time, and my damn major intruded itself into my life.  Anthropology. Psh.  Why couldn’t I have majored in juggling?  It seems to have worked for Penn Jillette, right?  Right?

 

Perhaps I’ll take it up later in life and become a late-blooming artist, the Grandma Moses of tossing fruit around. “Amelia started juggling after college,” people will say, “and look where she is now!”*

 

Or I can just find a club or something.  But where’s the romance in that?

 

 

*With any luck, in one of my five fabulous palaces surrounded by boxes of chocolate and books and entertainment.

Comments

[alexvdl.livejournal.com]

Not a lot of romance in juggling, period, really...

I mean how often do you walk into the used bookstore and you see a man in tight leather pants, rippling chest muscles holding a girl in one hand and deftly keeping three knives in the air with the other.

[padparadscha.livejournal.com]

What the hell is romantic about tight leather pants, though?

I'm not talking romance like love or sex or novels, you goof! I'm talking about romance in the arty sense.

[alexvdl.livejournal.com]

I wish I could find some nice leather pants. Also a leather jacket with lambs wool collar. And HUGE SWORD that doubles as a gun.

Are unicycles romantic?