So I was telling this story to someone who hadn't been there, and i couldn't remember the actual name of the girly award, so I called it the "Cynthia Plath Vagina Award".
SocioFemme: oh god
SocioFemme: dean trachte's office just called to
ask me to send them a copy of my resume
SocioFemme: i'm a little wigged out -- that means
i'm in the running for the williamson
mousapelli: hoo hoo hoo hoo
SocioFemme: gah! i'm freaking out
SocioFemme: i don't want it, not really, but i
don't want to NOT get it, either
SocioFemme: like, it would be better if i wasn't
under consideration at all
mousapelli: feh, don't tell anybody about it then, and nobody will ask you
mousapelli: you can sort of forget for a while
mousapelli: or better yet, channel your frustration into a fic about
Hermione's desperate desire for Hogwart's most prestigious award
SocioFemme: hahaha! I will!
mousapelli: the "Cynthia Plath Vagina Award"
SocioFemme: I'm SO SURE
mousapelli: the Albus Dumbledore Vagina Award
mousapelli: can you imagine his speech?
SocioFemme: I DON'T WANT TO
mousapelli: "I had one of those once...spell gone hideously awry, you remember
mousapelli: "good times, good
SocioFemme: OMG MY EYES KILL ME NOW
SocioFemme: I AM DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU KILLING ME
mousapelli: *howls with laughter*
i would die if somebody wrote this fic.