I am Cinna the Poet! Cinna the Poet!!!

When you see this in a friend's journal, quote Shakespeare!

First Citizen What is your name?
Second Citizen Whither are you going?
Third Citizen Where do you dwell?
Fourth Citizen Are you a married man or a bachelor?
Second Citizen Answer every man directly. 10
First Citizen Ay, and briefly.
Fourth Citizen Ay, and wisely.
Third Citizen Ay, and truly, you were best.
CINNA THE POET What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I
dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to 15
answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and
truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor.
Second Citizen That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry:
you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly.
CINNA THE POET Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. 20
First Citizen As a friend or an enemy?
CINNA THE POET As a friend.
Second Citizen That matter is answered directly.
Fourth Citizen For your dwelling,--briefly.
CINNA THE POET Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. 25
Third Citizen Your name, sir, truly.
CINNA THE POET Truly, my name is Cinna.
First Citizen Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator.
CINNA THE POET I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.
Fourth Citizen Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses. 30
CINNA THE POET I am not Cinna the conspirator.
Fourth Citizen It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his
name out of his heart, and turn him going.
Third Citizen Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands:
to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius' 35
house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go!
Exeunt

Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene III

Trolley horror...

On my way home today I was riding the trolley and as usual minding my own business (i.e. reading a book) I glance up to see what stop we're at and I see the guy across from me jacking himself off under his newspaper. *shudders* my virgin eyes didn't need to see that.

And it's not so much that I mind that people masturbate as a general rule (on the contrary, I think it's a good stress reliever. 'make porn, not war' and all that) but it's just so unsanitary to do it on the trolley, not to mention I'd rather not have to look up from Jane Austen to see a big, black, one-eyed trouser snake, it gave me quite a start.

*sighs* gotta love the public transit system. you never know what you'll see.

p.s. It has to be mentioned that when I walked off the trolley I decided that that was it! All men are perverts and the only one who can have a chance with me is Ewan McGreggor. I have since relented and I am now willing to consider men with doctorate degrees. But that's it. And even they will have to sit through a lengthy interview process. That's right, I'm inflicting my trauma on them. If they have a problem with it they can go hunt down the guy in the blue jumper and take it up with him. I will make men pay for the mental trauma I suffered.

*pets her poor Jane Austen book*