oxymoron67: (dino head)
Even though I'm not in it anymore, LJ Idol's prompts right now are pretty good. So here is an entry for one of them.
Of course I've cross-dressed. )
oxymoron67: (Default)
I am not sure what jarred this memory... but I was thinking about it while heading out to the museum today.
Set the Wayback Machine to 1990ish )

Thanks!

Feb. 14th, 2012 10:25 pm
oxymoron67: (Default)
To [livejournal.com profile] adelheid_p and an anonymous someone for the virtual gifts!

I had something snarky to say about Valentine's Day, but the reality is that I don't care about it.

I mean, when I was a kid I did. We always had to bring in Valentine Day cards for the other kids. Bleah. I liked the party and candy, though.

One year was cool. It was second? third? grade and I decided to sign all my Valentine's Day cards "Guess who?". It took my classmates about forty-five minutes to figure it out. My classmates? Most were not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.

Now? Not so much. Not dating... not looking to date, so it's just Tuesday.

I hope that if you are celebrating Valentine's Day, that it's wonderful.
oxymoron67: (Default)
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Undergrad? I was a French/Spanish double major with a Political Science minor. (Had I stayed in college one more term, I could have had a triple major, but adding PoliSci to what I had didn't seem to help much.)

Then in grad school, I started off in the French Department, specializing in Romance Language Linguistics and minority and regional languages. Looking around at the job market for Ph Ds in French (not good) and after being jerked around by that department in a million different ways, I transferred to the Division of English as an International Language, and got my Master's Degree.

My MA?I use that information all the time. The stuff from undergraduate? Less so.
oxymoron67: (Default)
Inspired by a message board.

Way, wayyyyyyyy back in the day... circa 1990, I was working midnight shift in a convenience store/gas station.

Lots of interesting things happened there, but let's just focus on this one event.

One night, two of my regulars and I were talking and noticed that this car had paid for its gas but hadn't moved from the pumps. Looking out, we saw that the occupants of the car were exploring the realm of adult pleasures.

I said something like "If I can't have sex at my workplace, then no one can!", took a brown paper bag, scribbled something on it, and walked out into the parking lot.

I stepped once or twice on the fender to get the couple's attention and held up me sign which said, in huge letters:


Artistic impression: 4.8
Technical merit: 5.3

I applauded and went back into the store.

They left.

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