(Semi-related side note: One time during a pre-dinner conversation, my mom said something that I was thinking of at that moment. Mistakenly, I said, "Mom, you must have PMS!" Good thing she didn't at the time; she thought it was pretty funny.)
This is what I wrote (before erasing) for my paper on postmodern theater: "The Wooster Group, founded in 1975, was one of the postmodern theater's largest contributers. Wooster sounds like rooster. Haha. This makes me laugh. Group sounds like poop. So basically, it's rooster poop. The end."
...Man, my writing teacher was right. Maybe I should consider majoring in English. Too bad I'm considering French at the moment, thus possibly depriving society of "Wooster Group"-caliber literary gold.
Focusfocusfocusfocusfocushandsanitizer. I love this stuff. It's liquid...but then it's not. Jesus, I'm out of my gourd. Alright, I have to a) stop typing on here and b) get some sleep...post-paper writing, that is. Chao.