It makes me sad that my flatmates don't like my Irish Lit teacher. I mean, his teaching style is kind of different and he likes to get his say in, but I'd rather not hear them bad-mouth him to me. It makes me uncomfortable because I like him and think he's a really nice guy. It just bothers me. And apparently I make a fool of myself in class, according to one of them, but it may just be me misinterpreting what she was saying and getting really sick and tired of hanging out with the same people all the time. I'm starting to get annoyed at little things that shouldn't bother me; I just can't help it. I wish I lived with guys, then I probably wouldn't have to deal with... whatever it is I'm dealing with. Cattiness? Girly stuff? I don't know. Whatever.
On a side note, they are certainly not prudish in London. I've seen more nudity here on public television and the most random places than I've ever seen before. Nicki and I came across this show called "Virgin School" in which a man learns how to have sex at some whorehouse in Amsterdam, and there was full-on nudity. It was pretty much just like, Whoa, that's a penis. And today as I was walking to the station from school, I saw a postcard that had a breast on it, thought someone drew a face on it, that said "Breast wishes from Britain."
What?
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Yeah, the British are “odd” about that stuff. British broadcasting standards used to not allow a married couple to share a single bed. This is why all the American sitcoms in the 50’s and 60’s had to show married couples in twin beds—-so they could be rebroadcast in Britain. And yet the country produced Monty Python. Very strange.
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