This will not end well.

On Tuesday, I participated in an hour and fifteen minute discussion about discussions. Seriously.

That bit of mental torture took place in my health care ethics class, presumably, because we are starting to discuss abortion. Everyone knows how civil and logical those discussions tend to be.

Today, we actually started the discussing. Our class is now roughly divided into two groups: Religious Beat Down Boy and everyone else. Personally, yes, abortion= bad. But, hey, who am I to make that decision for someone else. This kid, however, went on a tirade about everyone going straight to Hell for thinking abortion might sometimes be ok and women's main function as a source of life. (S.S. Mick, anyone?) The best part, however, was is argument that even pregnancy in the case of rape should never be aborted because "like its that big of an inconvenience. Nine months isn't really a big deal, the girl should just deal with it."

Those are not the words of a winner. They do, on the other hand, immediately incite an angry feminist rage against you, causing the professor to end class a little early.

Can't wait til next week! :-\

Sign here.

Duane and I (and our parents) finished signing our lease this weekend. We officially have a home for next school year!

We went to look at the apartment last weekend. From the pictures online, it looked decent but I wasn't expecting anything spectacular.

It ended up being pretty spectacular... well, as far as you can imagine a 1 bedroom apartment being, anyways. Its got shiny new hard wood floors... we had to take our shoes off to go in, in fact. And a dishwasher. Dishwasher = win. Also, bus stop is seriously 3 ft off the front porch. Big win there, too. And, oh yes, not in Oakland so no drunk "WOooooooooooooo!" at 3 am or broken beer bottles in the streets or helicopters landing 24/7. Ah, quiet.

I almost died.

About three times, in fact.

First, there was my new favorite player ever, James Harrisson running farther and faster than his fat, line-backer self had ever run before. I said it before, I would marry Dick LeBeau. Best defensive scheme ever there, hubby.

Then freak of nature Larry Fitzgergald scored and we were doomed.

But then, Ben, oh Ben, I know he heard my pep talk. He worked his "I'm only a mediocre quarterback until the last 2-3 minutes of the game when I suddently become freaking Joe Montanna" magic and saved us via the greatest throw-reception combo in the history of football. Right then, the only thing that kept me from completely keeling over was Santonio's super-human foot control. Seriously, I want to be a wide receiver. How they handle their feet fascinates me.

Six-burgh, baby!!