my...precious
Psych majors have this tendency to have lost "it" by the time they become professors. At least, every one that I have every had for a class has. This one stopped midsetence, mumbled something indistinguishable in the vast lecture hall (with wonderfully padded seats though :-D) and stated he'd have to be gollum. With that, he started hopping around, hunched over, giving quite a distinguished gollum cameo. I'd say imittation, but this guy was frightfull goof at this. He mentioned having kids sometime later after we made that trip for the lab portion of the class. In the dark. Halfway across campus. Knowing we had approximately 15 minutes to get from the lecture to lab. Luckily, he was as thrilled about that as us, and since he's the teacher for that, we never have to deal with him running over and the other starting early.
So, I suppose I can look foward to this class. It appears to be a repeat of statistics, which I already took, so it will be an A-class, I hope. It would be ncie to get A's my first semester and keep a high GPA. I'm sure I can look foward to many semesters ex post facto that will be nothing but pain and suffering, but for now, I'm still wandering around campus, desperately trying to recall which building and which classrooms are mine.
Work isn't much better. Because of some idiot whom started a rumor the other day about gas stations being closed around here, the gas prices gouaged to a ridiculous 3.79 (it's dropping now..) the restaurant has been evecuated, like Nawrlins. Thus, I'm recieveing piddly for tips. Got stiffed twice this week too! Cheap people.
Watched someone slip in the exact same spot I did a few weeks ago and smash a bunch of dishes. Talk about some non-serious PTSD, because I got flashbacks watching the accident unfold. I notice a piece of dish had somehow managed to get underneath their back. Crazy. They come out without a scratch, of course; no suits of workmans comp, no hounding the lazy owner to give me money for the doctor's bill. It's nearly maddening, how nasty a day i had constrasted with such a jackpot as my BF seemed to be recieving at work. True, i realise making piddly and falling on the floor hardly constitutes a jackpot, but in my warped mind, i was partly jealous. The only time the owner ever approaches me, he's alreayd exasperated and it's about somethign i aparently did wrong.
Woefully, i refused to be cordial this entire day because of a stupidity involving those antimicrob. tissues.
I'm quoting here folks; "It is a violation of federal law to use this product in a manner inconsistent with its labeling. use only as facial tissue."
Not only have I caused myself copious ammounts of undue stress, but it was apparently illegal to use the tissue for any purpose "inconsistent" with package label. So now, I have a sensation that burns with the fury and passion only matched with the added bonus of what feels like sandpaper being rubbed vigorusly against flesh. Loverly.
My own flesh and clothing are assulting me as a breathe, think, move, and live. Just. Loverly.
I don't think my enemies have to even worry about me beginning to exist to cause them trouble; I'm causing enough misery on my own self.
THAT, my fellows, is quite pitiful.
So, I suppose I can look foward to this class. It appears to be a repeat of statistics, which I already took, so it will be an A-class, I hope. It would be ncie to get A's my first semester and keep a high GPA. I'm sure I can look foward to many semesters ex post facto that will be nothing but pain and suffering, but for now, I'm still wandering around campus, desperately trying to recall which building and which classrooms are mine.
Work isn't much better. Because of some idiot whom started a rumor the other day about gas stations being closed around here, the gas prices gouaged to a ridiculous 3.79 (it's dropping now..) the restaurant has been evecuated, like Nawrlins. Thus, I'm recieveing piddly for tips. Got stiffed twice this week too! Cheap people.
Watched someone slip in the exact same spot I did a few weeks ago and smash a bunch of dishes. Talk about some non-serious PTSD, because I got flashbacks watching the accident unfold. I notice a piece of dish had somehow managed to get underneath their back. Crazy. They come out without a scratch, of course; no suits of workmans comp, no hounding the lazy owner to give me money for the doctor's bill. It's nearly maddening, how nasty a day i had constrasted with such a jackpot as my BF seemed to be recieving at work. True, i realise making piddly and falling on the floor hardly constitutes a jackpot, but in my warped mind, i was partly jealous. The only time the owner ever approaches me, he's alreayd exasperated and it's about somethign i aparently did wrong.
Woefully, i refused to be cordial this entire day because of a stupidity involving those antimicrob. tissues.
I'm quoting here folks; "It is a violation of federal law to use this product in a manner inconsistent with its labeling. use only as facial tissue."
Not only have I caused myself copious ammounts of undue stress, but it was apparently illegal to use the tissue for any purpose "inconsistent" with package label. So now, I have a sensation that burns with the fury and passion only matched with the added bonus of what feels like sandpaper being rubbed vigorusly against flesh. Loverly.
My own flesh and clothing are assulting me as a breathe, think, move, and live. Just. Loverly.
I don't think my enemies have to even worry about me beginning to exist to cause them trouble; I'm causing enough misery on my own self.
THAT, my fellows, is quite pitiful.
posted by redhead at 22:39
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