Like Animal House...But Better

Well actually I've only seen Animal House once, and for some reason I barely remember anything that happenned in that movie except for a Highschool girl that I could have sworn had a masechtomy and Belucci putting some cheese in his mouth and trying to pelt it at a bunch of jocks like it was a machine gun or something. Anyway, I like Will Ferrel better (lord knows why) So I guess we can safely say that Old School probabaly kicks Animal Houses's ass (OK, so Animal House did have the whole plot idea in the first place, but Old School perfected it)

Anyway, It's movies like this that make me feel that warm, fuzzy nostalgia for back when I was in college. Wait....Oops, I still am in college. My B. Guess life is just awesome then. Who knew? (or at least it will be from now on because I have had a major epiphany involving concert tickets, an essentially failed exam, a prize-winning paper, and overall not nearly enough alcohol)

Though if anyone would like to start a bullshit based coed fraternity, I'm obviously all in.

Now, let's use another element of the film to transition from talking about a lighthearted, happy subject to a serious one filled with impending doom. Ready, set, go! It seems to me that media portrays women in a horrible and degrading manner. No, I don't care about the fact that they're objectified as sex objects or essentially the basis of the porn industry, I'm actually talking about young men's wives. You know, those good, wholesome women that men (apparently) decide are awesome enough to forsake thair bachelorhood for and hot enough to keep them satisfied for the Rest. Of. Their. Lives. (I actually heard recently that about 3/4 of married men admit to cheating, but let's not even think about that) Here's my issue- they're too good. Or at least they are according to the media.

Are we really always the bad cops? Forsaking awesome amenities like a living room hot tub or mini bar for Pottery Barn furniture and matching take-off-your-shoes carpets? Giving our husbands curfews and feeling so threatened by something as trivial as a porn collection that it must be hidden in the garage? Insisting on approving nearly everything that goes on in their lives while using our pouty looks and coy glances to slowly bring an end to everything that is, well, fun? I would hope not. As truly touching as it is that guys will be willing to put up with this shit to please us, it sort of scares me that women and marriage are seen as the gateway choice to a boring life. Long story short, if I ever get like that, slap me. (And if my husband ever gets so drunk he decides to go streaking around town by himself, remind me that that is fucking hillarious.)