Oh My God! Did You See Her Butt? It Was, Like, SO BIG!

So apparently when I have to get up in front of people and speak, I suddenly turn into one of Charlie's Angels:

"Like, assisted suicide? It's, like, not good because it could, like, totally be manipulated by the HMOs since, um, like, they totally exploit the system to, like, make money and they've like totally shown this kind of track record by refusing people, like, TRANSPLANTS and stuff! I mean, transplants! I mean, like, really! Like people *DIE* when that happens! (pause) Assisted suicide! Don't do it!"

Yeah. Couple that with bright-red ears and burning flesh and a manic, wild-eyed expression and you have me during Thursday night's Ethics debate.

I hatehatehatehatehatehate standing up in front of people and speaking. The only time I *ever* had minimal success with this was when I had to give my Graduate Poetry-Reading in grad school--it actually went SO fantastic that it ranks up there as "One of My Most Memorable Experiences."

Then again, it also entailed me getting half-drunk beforehand (and sharing that fact with all my colleagues and students in a loud whisper-voice as well), which probably explains why it went so well.

But Thursday night--mother of god.

I am embarassed to say that, despite the fact that I have a degree in philosophy *and* literature (so I'm pretty good at constructing an argument), despite the fact that I can pick apart an argument in 5 seconds flat and watch it scamper away to some corner with its tail between its legs, despite the fact that I roll my eyes at the way folks argue in that class (apparently merely *defining* what gun control is can be considered a legitimate defense FOR gun-control), I am a blithering valley-girl when it comes to standing up in front of people and arguing my point.

Like. Totally.