Chicks in Flicks (or Women and Representation as it’s known formally) was particularly productive tonight. All of the usual philosophy and complicated paradigms that hurt my brain were incredibly clear for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that tonight I was able to hand in my scene analysis essay and get that out of the way. That felt good. I enjoy the “watch a movie and then analyze it” business. And I also was able to write three letters during the breaks tonight. The goodness of the class could have also involved the fact that Jess and I both ate giant slabs of chocolate cake in the first five minutes. Mmmmm.

Now, for the past little while I’ve been craving the visual imagery of smashing. Every time I’m in the kitchen I fantasize about breaking plates or glasses intentionally just to watch them fall. I know it’s bizarre, I’ve just never done it before, and sometimes glass breaking can just be so very beautiful.

So after class tonight when Jess and I were contemplating whether or not to take our dishes back to Creelman I suggested that we take advantage of the 20% more we paid to cover lost or broken dishes and stick it to the man smashy style. I was a bad influence! I’m never a bad influence!

We snuck (I know that's not a word, but sneaked sounds like crap) into a semi-secluded stairwell between two buildings and prepared to huck our plates into a beautiful oblivion. I went first (because Jess is a chicken) and I smashed that plate like nobody’s business! And of course the satisfaction led to a funny kind of post ceramic shatter adrenaline and I was itching to run away. But of course Jess throws her plate and it bounces and rolls on its side down the cement so I have to stand there all jumpy and wait for her to run and get it. She finally gets it to smash and we start running and laughing just as a class lets out. So we calm ourselves and repeat “Be cool. Be cool” as though no one will notice how bad we really are. Oh don’t be fooled by our innocent appearance! We’re bad girls to the core!