Why I wear heels

Courtesy of Buzz, two news stories that I found noteworthy.

First, a recent study has linked height to intelligence. Guess who is smarter, shorties or you freakishly-tall people? I'll give you this hint, I'm 5'3" (ish) and I HATE this study. And I didn't need to hear about it three weeks before my exams. I don't quite get how height and intelligence are related, but again, I'm short so should it be surprising that I don't get it?

Second, did anyone hear about the circus clown who died while performing some acrobatic stunt? I'd love to comment on this, but I doubt my comments would be very nice, and since karma always gets me, I'm keeping my thoughts to myself.

Seriously, go google these stories though. Good times.

I had to wear khaki

This is clearly not going to be my week for being smooth. Of course, I don't think I've ever actually had one of those weeks. Anyways, on my way back to my office today, I was carrying my coffee and some bastard, 50 pound squirrel jumped out of nowhere and attacked me! In my attempt to protect the innocents nearby, I emitted a high-pitched shriek (to scare the mutant rodent) and jumped in the air (to distract him). In this self-less process, I spilled some of my coffee. On my khaki pants. Mother.

Now I realize that many of you are thinking that the squirrel probably wasn't that big (nor was his mouth dripping with foam), but bear in mind that my school has a veterinary school. Who knows what kind of mad science they practice there? They could easily have created this demon squirrel, and sent him out to attack people.

Or, a cute little squirrel could have scurried across my path and I'm the biggest pussy every. Whichever way.

Ok, and go see Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart present an Emmy together. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pWAtviLRTQ

Her name was Lola

Who fell down some stairs on the first day of school? In their skirt? In front of someone?

Uh, not me.

Not at all.

Ok, so whoever invented s'mores is a brilliant food mastermind. And I don't care if "invent" is a tad over the top in this scenario (per se). I love them. Oh, I went to a barbecue yesterday in case you missed my lightning-fast (or invisible) segue. It was great fun. The only dark shadow to this fun-filled barbecuing extravaganza was the fact that it was held on a Sunday, so I knew I had to go to work today. Silver lining to that shadow, though, is that by work, I mean "work."

I love my job. I mean, "job."

I talked about Elvis today in front of my students. Someone pays me to do this. Not well, mind you, and not with their "permission" or "sanction" but I still do it.

Quick Emmys comment and then it's back to studying. Did anyone else see Barry Manilow and his tribute to a stroked-out Dick Clark? Manilow, who is going in for "hip surgery" today, really needs to stop taking Tori Spelling's advice on what constitutes good plastic surgery. Scary, scary stuff. He scares me even more, because he's how I picture Clay Aiken in 80 years. Clay Aiken mixed with a coked-out Rod Stewart, with just a touch of the Runaway Bride and her creepy eyes thrown in for good measure.

And off to study absolutism. Or watch videos on youtube.

Things that shouldn't be baby friendly

Ok, everyone should go see Little Miss Sunshine. Hysterical. Oh, Steve Carell. You're not as hot as Stephen Colbert, nor as funny, but you do alright.

Anyways, week one at school one is done (look at me all Dr. Suess-y with my rhymes. Maybe I'm destined to be the next K-Fed with his mad talent). School two starts on Monday, but I'm pretending that that's not true. Because denial is good for everyone. My "I hate Forrest Gump and Tom Hanks" rant was added to with an "I hate Tom Cruise" rant Thursday. But I think more people are with me on that one. Because he's crazy. And stuff. Overall, I'm pretty sure my students find my class "interesting."

I just care about entertaining myself for the 75 minutes of class time. Isn't that a great teaching philosophy?

So now I'm sitting at a coffee shop, supposedly studying. My friend Dutch is here with me, and I'm pretty sure she is studying, so I probably should be. But I'm sure it looks to everyone that I am hard at work. Appearances are everything.

Oh, quick story and then I really must do some work. So apparently a student in one of my friend's classes is a young mother who enjoys bringing her very tiny baby to class. And nursing. In class.

Ok, so she does cover herself up, but that kid is still attached to her *lady parts* while the professor is lecturing. Am I the only person who finds this disturbing?

Back to work. Or to get another oatmeal raisin cookie. Decisions, decisions.

Welcome to the 21st century

I'm unofficially retiring from work. Of course, when I say work, I mean "work." Since today I took a 45 minute coffee break, and yesterday and Monday I left at 11:30 to listen to Don and Mike.

Anyways, I finally caved and got a wireless card (God, I'm a cheap ass that I put it off for so long). I have spent the last hour listening to my favorite radio show in my office and watching videos on youtube. I don't think I'll be leaving my office ever again. Just send in some food every once in a while. This should tide me over until I can afford cable again. And the porn is better online.

Peas and carrots

Day one of school and I'm pretty sure my students think I'm less than 100% qualified to teach. It might have something to do with my outburst regarding Forrest Gump (which I hate). Followed by my outburst regarding Tom Hanks (whom I hate). Followed by my ode to Elvis (whom I love). And, of course, added to by my declaration of love for musicals.

All I had to do was introduce myself and go over the syllabus. I enjoy how I can take the simplest task and come out looking like I have some slight fixations. Depending on how you define "slight." Welcome back, students.

So that was today. Yesterday was boring, considering the highlights were a) defrosting my freezer (which I'm pretty sure is broken, unless it is normal to have to do this every other week), b) listening to Don and Mike fight on their show (one of them was being a bit of an ego-maniac and the other was being a crybaby pussy), and c) attempting to track down season one of Entourage (I failed. By the way.). Crazy life. I know.

And really quickly: Paris Hilton is releasing her album. This humble whore had this to say about it: "I, like, cry, when I listen to it, it's so good." I, like, can't wait for it. I bet it makes me cry too.

Weekend catch-up

Is this not the scariest fucking picture ever? I don't know if Karr killed JonBenet or not, but the crazy level on this guy is off the charts. Couple his psychosis with his creepy boyish eyes and ET neck, and he is going to be someone's best bitch ever in prison. Have fun in hell, Karr.

So school starts back up tomorrow and my exams are in a little over four weeks. For my last weekend of freedom, I decided to go visit my grandparents. I helped make jam, I ate some pie, I learned pinochle (kicking my grandfather's ass in the process, something I should not take pride in considering he is pushing 80), and played with their puppy.

Not a bad weekend. To top it off, before I left town on Friday I saw what might be the greatest movie ever. Even thinking about it now makes me giggle. I'll give you a hint: "I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!"

Did you get the hint? If so, congratulations on correctly identifying Samuel L. Jackson's masterpiece Snakes on a Plane! If not, you are a retard.

Go see it. Seriously. Enjoyable, enjoyable, enjoyable. And I only had two nightmares because of the movie. But one of them featured Don Geronimo killing the python that was swallowing some kittens, so I don't know if that actually counts as a nightmare. Nor is the rest of the dream anyone's business. Nosy perverts.

August 16

Poor Betty Friedan

Um, so I'm better today. Ish. So sorry about the rant yesterday. Kinda. It did make me feel better and, let's face it, some things needed to be said. At least in my world.

But to make everyone feel better, I thought I'd share my new favorite thing of the day. If you are driving through Wyoming (and why wouldn't you be?), stop in Sheridan. While many people may not associate the women's movement with Wyoming, the Equality State has earned its nickname. They have a gym there, and it is just for the ladies. The name?

The Feminine Physique.

Love. It.

Sigh

Mother. Fucker.

See this picture? See this particular consumer good? See how it is not funny? Sweet Christ. Sweet, sweet, my Lord and Savior, died on the cross, sweet Christ.

For those of you who know this story, I'm really fucking tired of it. For those of you who don't, sorry. You won't be hearing it for a bit because I am still goddamned pissed off about it. Which you might be able to tell. Unless you can't read and are completely retarded.

I swear by all that is good and holy (and some things that are neither good nor holy), if I hear one more crack about cold cream, some mother fucking heads will roll.

I'm a bit stressed right now over my stupid preliminary exams, so I admit I am probably not in the best place to be joked with, but cocksucker. This ceased to be funny a while ago. And you know who you all are, you funny, funny douchebags.

If you are trying to get me out of my "stressed-out-not-so-good-place-right-now" the cold cream joke ain't gonna do it. In times of stress/anger, I respond best to expensive gifts. And cash.

Hopefully my next post won't be so bitter, because hopefully none of you will give me reasons to be bitter. So maybe to curb the angry tone of this less-than-ladylike post, I shall end with my new favorite joke (which, I'm pretty sure, is only funny to me and five year-olds):

What is brown and sticky?

A stick.

Random Stories, Tenth Edition

And I’m back. Again. At least after this brief vacation from updating I don’t have bad news. Unless you count studying for far too many hours a day bad news. Which I do. Which is pretty much all that I have been doing. Which is why I haven’t posted. Crazy but true, reading history books and sitting in front of a computer typing up outlines does not tend to lend itself to fun stories.

Speaking of fun stories, though, I might have a couple. Or I might not. Who am I to judge what you will find funny? There are few things that we can all find funny. Exceptions being, of course, people falling on ice, anything Bill O’Reilly says, Coeur d’Alene Casino commercials (sorry for the people who don’t get to see those because they are classic TV comedy), and dogs in sweaters. Or are these all just things I find funny?

Back to the stories. So I use the word “ish” quite a bit. It’s a great word because it buys me a lot of leeway and there’s nothing I like more than versatility in a word. Except Elvis. And the Bradys. Anyways, I like it for the flexibility it gives me. As in when I tell people I’ll be somewhere at 7-ish. That gives me at least an hour either way. Or when I say I enjoy a TV show. Ish. That means it depends on my mood. Do we all do this? No? Just me?

Anyways, so back in the big city of Pocatello, I used it in front of my friend Toni who apparently hadn’t heard it before. Here is a transcript of what transpired:

Toni: I’m setting up a tee time for us to play golf this afternoon. What time do you want to go?
Me: I guess at 8-ish.
T: Eight-ish? What does that mean?
Me: Somewhere around 8. Derh.
[Momentary pause while the generation gap between myself and Toni grows. Luckily Toni loves me or else I’m pretty sure the “Derh” accompanied by my eye-rolling would have earned me a “flying elbow.”
Toni: I like that. I’m going to use it.
[Momentary pause while I giggle at Toni. All in good fun and a spirit of love. Ish.]
Toni: [now on the phone with the golf course] Yes, I’d like to set up a tee time. My friend and I are going to play golf-ish.
Me: [collapsing in a fit of laughter]
Ken: [Toni’s husband, who is currently shaking his head at Toni, like he is the Desi to her Lucy]
Toni: Did I use it wrong?

Ok, so maybe that story is only funny to me. If you did not find it funny, try to liven it up by picturing me falling on my ass at the end of it as I walk on ice. Which didn’t happen, but use your imagination. Does that make it funnier? If so, you are a sadist and (as Susie would say to Larry or Jeff) a sick fuck.

My other story for the day involves me and pretension. So I’m out of food at my house and need to go to the grocery store. I had nothing in my fridge for breakfast (seriously, all I have in there is beer and condiments. Because I am apparently a 22 year-old man.) so I had to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work. By the way, pumpkin scones are back.

So after getting my scone and a coffee, I’m in my car, with the windows down and some music playing. Not loudly, but enough so that if a person should pull up next to me with their windows also down they could hear it. Which happened. Luckily, it was a friend of mine who was going to the bookstore next door to the coffee shop.

So I’m in my car and we say hi to each other. He then sees me sipping my iced beverage, holding my little Starbucks bag containing said scone, and listening to my music. Which is an Italian singer singing in her Italian language. He then shook his head and said I won, and I quote, “The pretentious asshole of the day award.”

In my defense, because I don’t usually go around listening to music in foreign languages because we all know America kicks ass harder than any other nation (ish), I found this particular singer on an episode of Sopranos. It’s the one where Big Pussy feels guilty for being, well, a big pussy and cries over being flipped by the feds. And any music from a TV show where people are beheaded and their heads are placed in a bowling ball bag does not qualify as pretentious.

But that was my morning. Perhaps I should go back to studying and not post again until I have something better to share.