A cat after my own heart.

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

I'd like to contribute more, I really would.

But it's late and I'm tired and there were scary guys at work and then the police came and wow, doesn't *Local Town* only hire hot guys? and now I'm going to go eat chocolate and try to stay awake for Craig Ferguson, whom I really must remember to tape because OMG SO FUNNY but SO LATE WTF CBS??? so yeah, this sentence is over.

I give you, a cat. And a baby.


Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

You have no womb. Where would you gestate it? Keep it in a box?

I watched most of Monty Python's Life of Brian this afternoon while spending an hour with Colleen's the flatiron trying to burn the oil into my hair in an effort to make it halfway presentable. I think it worked, but I burned my forehead and my back is killing me.

Anyway, the quote was funny.



So you know my entry yesterday? Well, in an effort to avoid the Asian-American history flashcards (Do you know who enjoys the whole internment thing less than the Japanese? ME, THAT'S WHO.) and the feminist crap I have to summarize by Monday (Shut up, it weighs on me, dammit.), I followed some of the links. And apparently, it's a thing. I can't believe I didn't ever notice this, because I read that blog, and this kind of hilarity is right up my little alley!!!

Now, I can't comment on the women other than to say, um, no, no, they're certainly not.

But the guys? I can't imagine a situation where it would ever come up, but even if I was, oh, involved in a drunken Dork version of "marry, *insert inappropriate term for coitus here*, or push off a cliff"? Um, like at least three or four of them are going off the damn cliff. I don't care what the rules are.

So despite the fact that my marriage prospects are significantly less attractive in the law school route (I don't care what Colleen says, Indiana Jones was an archaeologist and THAT'S CLOSE TO ART HISTORY DAMMIT!!!), *I* become considerably more attractive.

Hmmm. I shall have to weigh this in my decision.



I finally got Boom! Voice from the Sixties from the library, only a semester after I ordered it, but that's okay because I heart the sixties in all of their crazy glory, so I'm going to go read that and pretend that my parents' generation didn't irreparably harm my country and civilization.

Strike #397 Against Law School

I do not want to be a part of any career in which this man is considered a hottie.

I'll just sleep with my aging, verbose thesis advisor like any other self-respecting history student, thank you very much.

(Confidential to Mom and Dad: I totally won't.)

We officially share to much.

Colleen was flipping through channels and stopped on EWTN for a moment, just long enough to go, "Whoa! Father What-A-Waste! I just thought I should comment."

I laughed and I laughed.

Let the embarrassment begin.

I think I just said I'd make Lee Pace have sex with me, even if I had to resort to rape. Oh, it's gonna be a long night.

ETA: Colleen just announced that she thought Casey Affleck was wicked sexy. I laughed. Then Daniel Day-Lewis showed up and I spontaneously ovulated. Which is laughable itself.

I'm not naming names, but...

...at this moment, there are three movies on TV starring gentlemen that I won't admit to and will deny adoring and yet own almost all of their movies. (So I guess if you want to know who they are, just look at my DVD shelf.) Yeah, that's embarrassing. And I don't know what to watch.

Reached stultifying heights of dorkdom last night. I was waiting for Craig Ferguson to come on and flipping channels, when I came across CSPAN 2, and then I laughed a little bit because just that morning, Colleen was saying how CSPAN 2 was just stuff that was Too Boring To Put On CSPAN. But then I realized they were talking to the guy who wrote The Nine.

And then I watched for an hour.

It was interesting, and he was very funny and smart and not as liberal as the critics of his books would have you believe. But my favorite part was at the end when he asked himself a question, about who, if elected, Hilary Clinton would nominate to the Supreme Court. He prefaced his answer by saying that it would be a move of "Clintonian, Machiavellian genius", which made me laugh far harder than ANYTHING on CSPAN should, because I love the idea that SOMEBODY ELSE understands that THESE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY.

Anyway, he said that Hilary would probably nominate Obama. No, it makes sense. He was president of the law review at Harvard, taught constitutional law for eleven years, and it would get him the hell out of the way in 2012. He can't really complain, either-it's the Supreme Court.

It is Machiavellian. And Clintonian.

The Hopelessly Uncool Crowd

Every Friday on the back of my paper there's a little article with contributions from a rotating assortment of 20-somethings in my city who all talk about what they're going to do this weekend. Fantastic, fabulous things that usually involve lots of drinking and friends and probably some hooking up without any of the awkward designated driver stuff (Digression: Seriously. Am I the only one who thinks it is more trouble than it's worth to go out and drink? This is Milwaukee for God's sakes, you can't walk anywhere and we have like TWO cabs.)

And because I'm a masochist, I read it every week. And then every week I go back out into the kitchen and think "What the hell, why shouldn't I eat a brownie for breakfast?"

So today, I'm writing my own.

Friday I'll be eating vegetarian lasagna...at home. In my kitchen. While watching "Amne$ia" on FOX, because, well, I'm a bottom feeder. Then I'll probably fall asleep watching Best Week Ever because I suck and am inordinately tired for a perfectly healthy youngish person.

Saturday morning I'll be washing my hair, drying it with two different towels, and spritzing it (YES IT IS A PROCESS STOP JUDGING ME) ignoring my blues lyrics that I'm supposed to write (and no, not because I'm in some band, but because God HATES ME THAT'S WHY) and probably bake some more brownies. Or coffee cake. Because my mom said she wanted some and dammit, she is ill and I should help her, right??? Then I'll probably watch some Family Ties on DVD because there is nothing I love more than an '80s sitcom that deals with pressing, real-life issues like the fact that Mallory maybe wants to sleep with her boyfriend who's in college and does NO ONE REALIZE THIS IS STATUTORY RAPE!?!?! Then I'll go to Mass and try really hard to avoid hitting my grandfather with something heavy, like perhaps a hymnal or maybe a candlestick. Hey. I was a server for eight years. I know where they keep the good shit.

Sunday could go two ways- I could work all day, which would suck, or I could pawn my hours off and probably repeat Saturday except without the hair washing because that much cleanliness? Cannot be good. Sunday night I am expecting to get roaringly drunk and watch the Oscars and then cry when Johnny Depp doesn't win. Oh, and eat some brownies.

I don't think I'll get published.

Did go see Definitely, Maybe this afternoon, though. A few thoughts.

-I flippin' love stories about how parents meet. They're flippin' adorable.

-So is Ryan Reynolds. And Abigail Breslin. And Isla Fisher. Indeed, the're all flippin adorable.

-Kevin Kline is really old. Dude.

-Was not amused that there appeared to be no reason for the divorce. None at all.

-There was a trailer for the new Indiana Jones. I don't care that he's old and decrepit. I'm going. It looks awesome.

-There was a trailer for Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day, and holy Christmas on an oceanliner is Pushing Daisies Guy hot.

Red Letter Day

New pictures on Flickr, including a couple from the Super Bowl party when I was drinking entirely too much out of entirely too little interest, and that may be why my cousins look like shapeless blobs. But go check them out.

Not really a fantastic day, but several rather fun and not unpleasent things occurred, and as I have nothing else to talk about except how unbelievably pissed I am that Lost keeps drawing me back in Kate raising Aaron, wtf???, you're going to hear about them.

-Last night I got a letter from UWM saying "OMG UR SO SMART COME GET CERTIFICATES PLEASE?!?!?" Or rather, I received sophomore honors and can go to a boring ceremony on some random Sunday afternoon which I won't because, hello, boring and SUNDAY AFTERNOON when I could be watching Crossing Over or American Justice or maybe even a Snapped marathon, but still cool.

- Got my hugely stressful essay (as in, one huge-ass essay) test back with a...wait for it...100. As in I got every single point you could possible eke out of that damn essay and everybody else got like B-'s and I am thrilled, dammit. And my Lord was the professor taking his sweet time getting them back to us, going over the grading and doing the "Chin up, you'll do better next time!" speech and whatever, old man, I just want my damn test!!! When he was handing them out and said "Kathleen...{mangled last name that's totally not right}? Is that right?" I just went "Yeah," and grabbed the book. But is okay. Because I'm smart!!!

-Mostly likely did not fail environmental geology test, as it was ridiculously easy and not nauseating at all. Whew.

-Actually saw Hot TA. And he smiled at me. Although that may have been more of a "Response to the Crazy Staring At Me With a Look That Says 18 Months Ago She Wanted to Have My Babies SOOOO Badly" smile than an "OMG I want you to have my babies!!!" smile, but hey, I'll take it. Incidentally, he's put on weight. Not a lot, but still. Which isn't bad, because I do not like to be in worse shape than the person I'm lusting after. I can't obsess over David Beckham. It would be too depressing. And make the brownie sundaes I've taken to living off of seem less normal. I don't think Hot TA would turn down a brownie sundae anymore.

-My hair looked good. Enough for it's own section.

-SRSLY KATE RAISING AARON???? WHAT DOES IT MEAN!?!?!?

New room?

I live at home.

That's not a complaint. I'm owning it, I'm not that old, makes financial sense, family issues, blah blah blah. And guess what suckas? In five years when you move back in with Mom and Dad because you have exorbidant student loans and no jobs? I'll be moving into a nicely appointed appointment ALL BY MYSELF. So yeah, I'll talk to you then.


But anyways, the only part I'm not absolutely thrilled about (except for the fact that my parents decided the Boonies was a good place to settle) is that I do actually share a room with my little sister. Which is embarrassing. A little bit. It worked fine when we moved in when we were 11 and 9, but at 20 and 18? Notsomuch.


So I don't remember why I was whining about it (Oh wait. Yes I do. But in the interest of family relations, I'm not mentioning it.), but I was whining, and my mom's all, "OMG IDEA!!! Do you want the den?"

I think I was offered this once like a bunch of years ago, but then The Crazy moved in (person, not thing, which currently lives with us) and I was an emotionally scarred child who didn't want to sleep on the first floor ALL BY MYSELF OMG.


But now it's sounding pretty good. I could repaint with paint that doesn't have little clouds, buy wallpaper that doesn't have horses, and have doors that actually closed. And did I mention it's connected to my bathroom, like a real grown-up bedroom!?!?!


(And room for a bookshelf. Which is massively exciting, because my book situation? Has gotten out of hand. I now have every single mass market paperback piled on the ends of shelves, and then two stacks of unread books on a table downstairs.)


(Ugh. And I'm getting another one from Amazon today. Will I never learn?)


(But that's not the point.)


Teensy weensy little baby problem. You know that emotionally scarred child? Is now an emotionally scarred young adult. And those clouds? She painted with her mom. And the horse wallpaper? She picked out because horses were her absolute favorite things ever. And the doors closing? Well, okay, there is no downside to the door.


So I can't even think about doing this until spring break because you know those family issues mentioned above? Means that I'm the only one who can do the work unless I ransom my cousin and frankly he takes enough heat from the earlier generations. I shall have to think about it.

But would you like to know my major objection? If I move downstairs, Colleen will get my room. And, well, if you've ever met her? It's tantamount to the British troops pulling out of Normandy, leaving the Paris of my beloved room open to her Nazi disorganization.

I don't think she'll kill any minorities though.

In which I am accompanied by my Empress and do my civic duty all the while compromising my principles. But I did have a muffin.

Obscenely early trip to GHS when I had to physically restrain her from leaping from the car and telling several passing students that SHE WOULDN'T BE THERE TODAY LOSERS.

As though that wasn't enough, I was under strict instructions from my mother to "omg don't show her anything not pretty, do you think you can find a hot guy to show you around? what do you mean you don't have time for lunch maybe you should skip a class so you can show her that there are many fun lunch options ONLY PRETTY PEOPLE DID YOU HEAR ME? IF SHE LEAVES IT'S YOUR FAULT!!!!"

Or, you know, something like that.

I was not able to find a hot guy to take her to lunch, but I did manage to take her to a class with a blue urine story, which surely must count for something. And there was muffinage.



Then I voted- whoo!!! For someone I disagree with almost completely and I actually felt a little teensy bit ill filling in the little box but it's okay! I'm alright with it! I like being a sabatour! No! Really! I'm fine!

(I am pretty sure that my grandfather would tell me I was going to hell though. Which is why I didn't talk to him about it.)

But as I was leaving the town hall, Colleen like jumps up behind me and goes "Who did you vote for!??!?!" When I informed her that frankly it was none of her damn business, she looked seriously disturbed for a moment before screeching like a howler monkey about how I seriously need to tell here what it wasn't HILARY WAS IT?!?!?!

(No, it wasn't.)



Now I've been doing reading and shit for like five hours and dammit I'm tired!!!

Um, yeah. No shit. Perhaps I should publish a paper "Undergrads Like Those Too!!!" and forgo this whole "capstone" thingy.

(Which I've been having an existential crisis about lately anyways. But that's another entry.)

Lol. It's a cat.

moar humorous pics

46 days is pretty good.

I did not update yesterday. *tear*

But I'm not crazy about it, because I am not crazy obsessive like everyone else in my family.

And also, I'm going to be out of town several days next month and, well, I'm really cheap, and lugging my laptop to Ohio and wandering around the hotel room trying to get a free wi-fi signal so that I can let you all know that my hair is still frizzy and I DON'T LIKE OHIO? Notsomuch.

Now I'm tired. And there is vegetarian lasagna, and lemon cheesecake bar, and SANGRIA OMG, so I'm ging to go.

Too tired to blog

But on our way home tonight my parents were talking about this legendary local priest who- how shall we say this?- fell from grace in the mid-80s.

Apparently, he would give up sex with his mistress for Lent, but come Easter Sunday (Colleen: Eww! That is a holy day!!!), well, according to my father, he would not be denied. *snicker*

And DAMN, that does not happen though anymore.

It would just make life so much more interesting, n'est pas?


moar humorous pics

It's no longer Murphy's law, it's MINE.

Apropos of nothing, Elisabeth Hasselbeck's brother was sworn in by the Chief Justice a couple of days ago, lucky bastard.

That would happen in my family. I would toil away in law school and spend the summer studying for the bar and then get sworn in by some flunkie on the Wisconsin Supreme Court who probably ignores confict of interest rules.

My sister would probably go away, fly through law school, get drunk the night before the bar but pass anyway, and then end up getting sworn in by John freakin' Roberts, Judicial Wonder Boy and jurisprudential badass.

And I'd have to show up in an ill-fitting dress and sit with my parents and pretend to be happy for her.

But hey, I could console myself with my vastly smaller student loans and the fact that I'd still be around to pick up my brother from high school.

(And no, I don't know why my brother is still in high school in this hypothetical where my sister and I are in our late twenties, but that's the way it is. )

(I couldn't link directly to the video, but it's under the Hot Topics: K Arthur Filarski link. My favorite part? When they compare him to Darrin from Bewitched. Haha.)

Blah

I was going to do a whole thing about American Idol and politics and something else that I don't remember, but then I got home and made my mom redo her will because no way am I having whatever loser asshole I end up marrying getting his cheating, grubby little hands on MY INHERITANCE.

*ahem*

And then got into a screaming, crying fight over open vs. closed caskets with my sister.

And now I'm really tired.

If anyone would like to offer novenas around eight tomorrow, I have an essay exam that I kind of haven't been able to focus on. So yeah. My extensive viewing of The Tudors is going to have to carry me through.

Today has been canceled due to debilitating headache.

Because I stupidly thought, "Ha! No headache today! I'm not even going to bother taking Advil Cold and Sinus!!!" and romped out the door.

An hour later I was suffering through an interminable British history lecture while my eyes were glassed over, my nose was spewing puss all over my notes, and I felt as though I had either the worst hangover ever or a knife shoved into my eye sockets.

And I was SO NOT paying attention to John Wesley's Methodist church and the religious revival (Digression: I don't think that's the right word. But the only other one I can think of is "reformation" and when you say that it means something totally different. Any thoughts?) and what tastefully bullet-pointed (I swear to God if I have to sit through one more list I'm going to drop the damn class.) four points they lent to British culture but instead contemplated hurling myself to the parking lot below BECAUSE THEN THE PAIN WOULD STOP MABYE???

Also? Driving home sneezing and wanted to ram your head through the dashboard during a snowstorm? Not fun. Not fun at all.

Went out last night, for the first time since the semester started, and had lots of fun. California Pizza Kitchen is quite good, even if the decor has been overdone, and APPLE CRISP OMG BESTEST EVER!!!

Then we trekked around Bayshore while Derrick showed us outfits he had previously purchased (not a lot going on on Monday nights...) and then we went to Barnes and Noble and bitched about work. And I reshelved Suite Francais. I'm sorry. It's habit.


Then Derrick asked me if I was wearing a garter belt and Aaron almost fell off the sidewalk he was laughing so hard.

Hey, you know what? I haven't talked about classes like, at all lately. Which is a marked difference (improvement?) from last semester when almost every entry had a sentence about some new way I dreamed up for my psychology professor to die). So I'll talk about them now.

They're pretty okay. Britain's great, although I form a better (more volatile?) opinion after the test on Thursday. Music kind of is wicked boring and I'm kind of worried because I don't know what the hell he's going to ask us on the midterm, but I kind of like it.

Women/Gender is okay, I'm a little sick of hearing her horror stories about college for women in the 1970s, mostly because I know it's a total crock. My mom was in law school (still a male dominated profession) at the same time, and was hardly persecuted. But I get it, she's bitter. Asian Americans? Boooooooring.

And environmental science? I wouldn't know, because I don't understand a word the guy says.

But something is bothering me. Majorly. Every single one of my professors has a massively annoying verbal tick.

Asia woman says "basically" basically every other word.

Women/Gender likes to say "duh" a lot. That inspires confidence.

Britain guy puts "formally" with everything, even if there is no informal equivalent. Did you know that William of Orange formally died in 1702? I really wanted to raise my hand and ask when he informally passed.

Music Guy's has all to do with the fact that he won't stop saying "all to do with..." I want to hurt him.

Environmental Science Guy finishes every single slide with, "Do you agree?" (At least as far as I can tell. Sometimes it gets a little dicey.

Finally, every time Art History Woman finishes an audio file (it's an online class)? There's this breathing out as though she's been holding her breath.

It's gonna be a long time until May.

I go to make brownies. Because I want to eat them. Badly.

Pearls of wisdom from the Grammys

Some rapper: Yeah, no, it's cool when they don't know who I am. 'cuz then they won't be like, hey, that's Chris, let's get a baby out of him!

Um. Yeah.

Maybe if you slept with fewer groupies, this wouldn't be an issue. Just saying.

The Boy is ill

And worse, he doesn't know what it is. Ugh. I feel my glands swelling already.


moar funny pictures

I'm going to go drink through the Grammys. Woo!!!

Sangria+ The Invasion= Good night.

No. For reals, y'all.

Also? I ate meat today. And it was good.

Jesus is making me gain weight.

I don't know what weird hormonal treachery is going on in my thyroid but I. Want. Meat.

I have wanted meat all day. (Well, that and sangria. I love sangria. In fact, I want some now.) I wanted it for lunch. I wanted it around 5:00. And I wanted it even more when my dad decided tonight was a good time to make tasty seasoned taco meat.

But it's Friday, and instead I had cheese and crackers for lunch and pasta with broccoli for dinner.

I still really wanted meat.

So I crushed up Oreos and put them in the vat of already cookies-and-cream ice cream I was eating and then consumed it quickly, with whipped cream and maybe a couple milanos afterwards.

I hope God is happy.

Electress Sophia of Hanover Ruined My Life

Just so you don't think I'm a comlete moron, I did know everything in this entry before. It just occurred to me in horrible, career-altering clarity this afternoon.

My life's goal??? It is impossible.

Because three hundred years ago, someone decided that I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH!!! Gah.

It makes no sense. 14% of the UK's population is Catholic.

And who the hell are the Stuarts to say I can't be queen!?!?!? They were Scottish for God's sakes!!!!

Very Industrious Snow Day

Notes on Yesterday's Comments:
Rockford: You’re allowed to complain.
Mickey: Of course you would
Imladris: They’re not even fat. It sucks.

Today I:

1.) Slept until 9:00. Decided whatever I do with my life needs to start sometime after 10:00. One more point for professor, one less for crazy lawyer drone.

2.) Watched Elizabeth: The Golden Age. Decided that Clive Owen is my intended. Also? Amazing movie.

3.) Watched Across the Universe. Decided that Jim Sturgess was my intended. And also? That I wouldn't have done well in the '60s.

4.) Watched about thirty seconds of an ABC Family movie because I though the guy in it was inexplicably Dominic Cooper. It wasn't. Decided that Dominic Cooper was my intended, even though he's never been in an ABC Family movie.

*Haven't actually done it yet, but undoubtedly will*

5.) Watched Moment of Truth. Decided that I wouldn't want to know if Clive/Jim/Dominic were cheating on me. And also? That I'm just a gossip monger.

Role models. I has them.

Not real role models, because frankly I think the entire idea of role models indicates a weakening of the parent/child relationship that is becoming all too common in our society, but that’s neither here nor there.

I should have said, I know who I want to be when I’m really, really old.

There are these two older ladies (really older, like 70s- one has a grandson who’s already a lawyer and the other has a granddaughter who’s starting medical school.) They take my bus, and last semester, they audited my Egyptian civ class, but I didn’t really ever talk to them (except when one was reading Nefertiti, when the bookseller part of me screamed, “OH MY GOD ISN’T THAT AMAZING!?!?!” *ahem*) Anyway, they showed up in my British history class, too, and since they’re massively and unnervingly friendly, we started talking.

Two things- they’re kind of amazing, and they’re also kind of stalking the professor.

No. Really. They adore him. Like they already know what he’s teaching next year. And I’m really hoping it’s kind of an intellectual adoration, because otherwise, um, eww.

This morning one goes, “Do you love him as much as we do???” in a breathless voice. My first thought was, “Dear God, no. But this is going in the blog!” but instead I bit my lip and choked out, “Um…I really like the class!” and confined the laughing party to my head.

But after that they started talking about their lives. They both got married very young and never thought about going to college, so now they take classes and travel.

And wow, I’ve never been so simultaneously jealous and grateful in my entire life. Despite the fact that I think feminism is a crock, I am so lucky that I live in a time when it’s understood and accepted that I can do whatever the hell I want to. Get married? Now? Hells no.

But then they started talking about their travels, to Germany and Greece and Italy and how they’re going to be in Switzerland in April and that’s why they won’t be in class lol!!! And I kind of just wanted to throw my notebook at them. Because if I miss a class in April??? Chances are there was a freak snowstorm and I’m in a ditch somewhere on Lake Drive, I’m deathly ill, or- wait- we did discuss going to Ohio to visit the invalid nun.

Hell. Maybe I should be lusting after the professor. I have no trip to Switzerland to look forward to.

(P.S. One of their sons is a lawyer who is taking early retirement so he can go back and get a history degree. Okay, God, I get it. I’ll reconsider the law school thing.)

Are you sick of me yet?

Because I kind of am. And I write the damn thing.

Le anyhoodles, this is going to be kind of quick because I'm tired, just realized that the day is almost over, have to leave the house at 6:40 tomorrow morning (Friend's car *and* glasses broke. That sucks.), and am in the middle of a fantastic book about Anne Stuart.

Speaking of which, my new royal obsession? Is the whole Civil War/Glorious Revolution/Stuart Dynasty thing.

Because- dude! They have secret Catholics and crazy dictators and a guy who was known to say, "L'etat c'est moi" (I am the state) and dear God how did I miss this whole two hundred and fifty year period between Elizabeth I and Queen Victoria!?!?!

Well, I guess it's because I have a tendency to hop through history focusing on pretty dresses. And while all those good Protestants that England was so fond of were good for the government and stable economy and all, notsomuch with the dresses.

So yeah, that's probably why.

FYI, it's not entirely my fault. A cursory search for "english civil war" or "glorious revolution" on Amazon doesn't turn up much, mostly document collections from the 1980s, which, excuse me, *snore*. If Alison Weir hasn't done it, I guess it doesn't get much publicity.

Totally not even worthy for the internets and my faithful reader Mommy, I FINALLY FOUND KHAKI PANTS!!!

They're not amazing, and I'm pretty sure I still don't look chic and effortless like khaki pants are supposed to make one look, but at least they don't give the impression of *insert rude name for part of a camel's foot here* or actually show the cellulite on my thighs.

So yay!!!

Finally, it's Speshul cat. Hahaha.

(I'd be laughing even harder if we hadn't had to study that photograph in physiological psychology last semester. *shivers*)

Still not entirely normal.

Watched The Invasion last night. I didn't realize this in theaters, but they spend entirely too much time following Nicol Kidman around. Damn, can't the crazy-hot ex get some screen time???

Also discovered that watching movies with Dad and John is not nearly as much fun as watching them with Colleen. Because when I implied that I'd be okay with losing my autonomy if Jeremy Northam found that attractive, they didn't laugh. They just got weirded out.

*sigh*

Not as glamorous and it appears.

This morning I was standing at work, and a mom and her two daughters, probably about five and seven, came up and ordered hot chocolate and then went and sat at a table near the counter. I was eavesdropping when the mom goes, "Now, it's only 11, so should we go get our nails done now? Or go to lunch first?"

My day? Consisted of trying desparately to not kill the person I was forced to work with, not kill myself, and then go to Target to buy cortisone cream to get rid of this thing on my neck that looks like a hickey but isn't because that would imply that someone wanted to suck on my neck.

I almost started to cry.

But I didn't. It was Hug a Gay Day, I hugged my gay and felt a lot better.

#256 of The Things They Don't Put In the Student Handbook But Should.

The whole Fridays off thing seems pretty good in theory, doesn't it?

In practice?

Even more awesome.

(I think #257 should be something like only unattractive grad students can be allowed to be TAs, to cut down on the emotional pain wrought upon poor, unsuspecting undergrad girls, but I haven't finalized that yet. Yes it's been a year an half, but I'm still considering a change to psychology...)