We'll pretend I took this photo instead of stealing it off the Internet. Or, we could dispense with all pretense and just admit that we all steal off the Internet.
Anyway, I'm going to see God Made Me Funky this evening with Lozza and the gang, to get, according to the group's terminology, funkafied. I could use some funk in these here life. I mean, it's already pretty swell, but how could a little funk really go wrong?
I like how the funky people call everyone "U". This is going to take some getting used to! I'm going to have to bone up on the "lingo". Heh. There is nothing guaranteed to make one feel unhip faster than putting the word lingo in quotations.
And already, I feel the creepy cold shackles of university life trying to grab on to me, make me feel guilty for going out on Saturday night, going to funkafy myself. If we can imagine Roxanne Roastbeef Mills (the daughter of C. Wright Mills, an icon of sociology) as a symbol of this sort of nose-to-the-books, no-fun scholarship, she's shaking her strange finger at me. Or would she go dancing too?
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