Guess who's back in school, motherfuckers???

Wait a minute. That's not something to be excited about. Makes you wanna shake out the cold really. Yes, boys and girls, it's that time again. It's time for me to dust off the old backpack, clear out the old binder, put on the old pants (???), and get my ass to class. I started off tonight with a bang. And by "bang" I mean I fell asleep. Seriously, what does it mean for a semester when you go to your very first class and promptly pass out. It's not even like I was tired, kids. In all fairness, I had my International Cinema class, which is taught by the ever loveable, Aging Hippie Liberal Douche (sounds like an Ang Lee film), I had last semester. TFM kids ought to be able to figure out who I'm referring to, though their opinion may differ. So anyway, he starts us off with a surrealist film from 1930. For those who don't know what that style entails, it is quite simple: Take everything you love about movies, and throw them the fuck out! There you have it. Nonsensical images juxtaposed nonsensically. Movies that would make Freud go, "What the fuck were they on?!" I watched the first ten minutes and checked into the Hotel Morpheus (thanks Durbin). I woke up and had no idea where I was in the movie and I'm certain I'd feel the same had I stayed awake. *shakes out the cold* So that's how it starts. I can't wait for some more of that shit! Oh yeah, more of that shit... :-P Pbbbbbbbbth!!! P.S. For anyone with a masochistic streak, the movie we watched was called The Blood of the Poet by Jean Cocteau. Rent it on a sleepless night. Trust me.