Honorificabilitudinity

This was my word-of-the-day e-mail. It was too good to not use. It's pronounced ON-uh-rif-i-kay-bi-li-too-DIN-i-tee. Imagine me trying to say this out loud at seven this morning. I just made your day a little bit happier, didn't I??? Oh, it mean honorablness. Which in an of itself is kind of hard to say.



So despite their ever-so-engaging letter of acceptance in which they recognize my laudable achievements during my secondary education while assuring me that they are deeply indebted to me for choosing their fine institute of higher learning and pledge that I will be incredibly pleased with my experience and beg for me to call them with any little questions I may have, the University of My Choice is trying to kill me.

What, you ask, is she hearing voices again?

No. And I take offense at that.

Rather than hitting the nail on the head and just sending a burly fellow to bump me off in the middle of the night, the University of My Choice (hereafter abbreviated UMC) prefers to be sneaky in its methods. They began six months ago with a deceptively simple essay question on the application, what exactly do I want out of this and how can I make it seem intelligent but not overdone; light of tone but not casual; mature but not written by my mom; eager for information but not completely afraid of autonomy? And how the hell am I supposed to do that in two hundred fifty words???

Once they have you in a simpering mess on the floor of the den, then they really strike- they confuse you with love and acceptence when they agree to let you attend. Then they strap you in a chair for five hours while you take "placement tests". I'm pretty sure that the Geneva Convention had something about this, but I can't be certain, because we were penalized for having any non-math or English-related thoughts.

Once they are forced to let you leave the premises, they know they need something to keep you codependent. So they come up with the idea to keep the information gained during the torture session placement test results from you until you come to sign up for classes.

But I got cocky. I was too smart for them. I figured out that they actually did release the scores, and they could be found on the website, thus cutting one of the many umbilical cords binding me to the School of Letters and Sciences.

I should have known they'd retaliate. UMC is not to be taken lightly.

They figure out the single most frustrating thing of the entire process, which you finally figured out, and then they change it. Completely. I spent forty-five minutes this morning trying to figure out my schedule that I already had figured out before they refigured the whole damn thing. I was ready to stab myself in the thigh with my pen.

And it's not over. Tomorrow they are witholding my schedule until I spend seven hours with my generation. *screams* NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANYTHING BUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The little registration thing supposedly takes FOUR HOURS. What the hell could possibly take four hours about signing up for five classes??? I'm going to kill myself.

*ahem* Moving on...

Only about a month from the Emmy nominations! Whoo!!! Somebody posted a complete list of who is lobbying for nominations. There are a lot. I found it slightly amusing but mostly disturbing that at some point I have been been obsessed infatuated with a third of the people on the Lead Actor- Drama list. Yes, I did the math. It was really a third. I'm kind of surprised it wasn't more, actually...

A friend of mine's majorly disturbing asexual crush on Anthony LaPaglia notwithstanding, I am so thrilled that Without a Trace is coming to TNT. Once a week was not enough. Now it's on twice a night. And I have even more reason not to go out and see real people. Just what I needed. But now what to watch? CSI on Spike or Wihtout a Trace on TNT??? Oh the decisions that come because of having far too few actual friends. Even the one with the aformentioned quasi-crush.

Going to go clean the bathroom. I know you're all jealous. Please, just remember that I'm a real person just like you.