Uggg...

I feel like late last night as I was sleeping someone snuck into my bedroom, stuffed cotton balls through my ears and into my brain, and then injected some sort of vile, viscous liquid into those cotton balls so that they expanded to the size of tennis balls while in my skull. Not fun. On the upside, it's one of those kind of flu/colds where you feel really awful but are still vaguely functional.

I went to class against April's advice, but the idea of missing the last class of the semester bothered me too much. (I either have an overdeveloped sense of work ethic or I'm a teacher's pet, your choice.) And now I'm sitting at home on the couch about to watch the final episodes of last season's The L-Word. This is strictly for research purposes, by the way, since one of my seminar papers (due in two weeks) is on how the show depicts contemporary lesbian fashion, power and politics.To accompany my lesbian soap opera research, I just watched an incredibly amusing hour-long documentary from the early 1990s called Framing Lesbian Fashion. The documentary itself was fine--an interesting, if short, historical account of lesbian fashion trends--but the clothing itself...whoa! I can't complain too much because I remember with some chagrin what I wore in the earlier 1990s, but flannel? Jean vests? Baggy t-shirts and blouses with belts? Why, I ask you? Why?