Monthly Archives: January 2011

If You Don’t Know, You’ll Never Know…

…that I’m mean. Because I am…let’s be honest. But at least it’s funny! Which brings me to tonight’s rant:

Professors who try too hard make things awkward for everyone. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m an adult now, but I can’t remember being embarrassed for my professors or teachers when I was of the “appropriate schoolin’ age”.

Case in point:

On the first day of class, the professor entered at the last-minute with a pair of very unflattering sunglasses on his face. Remember that I only attend night classes. So the eyewear he was sporting was not for UV protection. We spent the better part of the next ten minutes speculating as to why he would be wearing sunglasses not only at night, but inside the classroom. We came up with the following two scenarios: Either he was blind (which would have been odd being that he was looking directly at the computer screen) or he wanted to be able to see us without us knowing where he was looking (creepy as hell). It turns out, however, that he had gotten jumped on his way to his apartment and was rocking a HUGE, nasty black eye. Way to play it cool, prof. I still don’t remember anything from his lecture during that class. Just the black eye staring back at me.

Tonight’s class (since I missed last week) was my second go at it. The class broke into groups and each group will have a turn at doing a presentation on the assigned reading for their assigned night. Tonight’s subject was Sherman Alexie’s The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven.

The professor’s presentation on Alexie fell WAY short of the student presentation he should never have let happen first. He opened with a question: “Who here likes Gray’s Anatomy?” (Silence). “Well, these guys had a song that was played in one of the episodes!” (First in a series of arbitrary Youtube videos, this being a live performance by a punk band called Reddmen. You guessed it. Real live Lakota Indians playing white man music!) Then, instead of telling us something we didn’t already know about Native American history and why Alexie uses sarcasm and fantastical observation to explain the hopelessness of reservation life, he plays us YouTube videos of three singers Alexie uses in his book. We get why Jimi Hendrix was an important symbol for Victor’s father in the midst of his identity crisis. We didn’t need to watch his fingers tickle the guitar for five awkward minutes. Thanks though. I have YouTube and the ability to make superficial observations of Alexie’s prose at home, but I’d much rather hear it from you. This desk is a dream to sit in too. Really. Just ignore the pinched nerve in my back. I know I am.

I can smell him trying to prove to himself that he belongs here and it is making me uncomfortable. It smells like teen spirit. Maybe next we can watch Nirvana on YouTube. Kurt died before the age of 30 too.

While all of this nastiness was going through my head tonight, I couldn’t help but notice that there was a kid wearing bright red jeans and a mauve sweatshirt. And THAT, my friends, annoyed me more than anything else. Until, that is, I was leaving the three-hour waste of my time. I ended up behind the professor on the way out of the building in some sick twist of fate. He held the door for me and as I was walking past him he said, “have a good weekend!”

What? I spent the whole five-minute walk to my car submerged in confusion. “Have a good weekend?” It took me until I was in my car to realize that yes, today is indeed Monday. Whew! In the words of the great Chelsea Handler, “What. A Whirlwind.”

Things I realized I hated while waiting for class to start

Going to an Environmental Geology class as an English Literature and Language major is preposterous. I don’t care about the movement of the earth’s continental and ocean plates. I just don’t. Someone write some fiction involving ocean: continental convergence and then maybe we’ll talk. While I was stewing in my lonesome aura of hatred, I started looking around the lecture hall to see who I could direct some of that hatred to. What I realized in that process are the following things:

I don’t get why some girls make the conscious decision to wear a baseball cap and dangly, ornate earrings simultaneously. If you are in so much of a hurry that you can’t be bothered to comb your hair, then at least commit to the look. Go with “I’m not a girly girl, I can hang with the dudes” instead of “I haven’t washed my hair in 4 days, but I can’t bear to tell my ears”. Annoying.

I don’t understand short-sleeved sweaters. Not a sweater in the sense that it’s an amazing ivory cashmere number, but more like a bulky “my great-aunt crocheted this for me over Christmas break” , don’t have to suck in your stomach when you sit down type of sweater. Clearly the point is not aesthetic. So it must be warmth, right? Then WHY WOULD YOU CHOOSE ONE WITHOUT SLEEVES? To layer up and get that sleek color block look starting at the most unflattering part of the arm? Of course. How could I have even wondered?

Standing in line for anything is completely degrading. I mean, just think about it. Little kids line up at recess because they can’t be trusted to proceed in an orderly fashion. The poor and downtrodden lined up in the streets to wait for their meager handout of bread during the Great Depression. I am obviously putting too much negative thought into this whole queue business but to this day I feel slight resentment toward whoever forces me to wait in a line. (Here’s where you go “ah…the superiority complex she mentioned…”)

Let me go ahead and take myself down a few notches:

Here’s something I love. Guys with arms that are hairier than mine. Thank you. Without you I would never date. At all. You make me feel like a natural woman. I’m a hairy beast, if you haven’t figured that out yet. Waxing or wiping off the hair with a depilatory cream resulted in what I’ll call “The great mole scare of 2009”. Without the hair, my arms are frighteningly pale and a veritable minefield of moles/freckles. It’s freaky! So…there you are. I’m a gross, weird, hairy freak.

Can You Hear Me Now?

As outdated and cliché as that title may be at this point, it is completely relevent to what I’m about to write. I promise with all of my heart that I am not exaggerating anything that follows:

I begrudgingly went to class after work today, even though the professor wasn’t going to bother to show up. She warned us last week that she would be in California for a conference and would be unable to attend. She did, however, graciously arrange for us to watch an archaic documentary about the history of corruption in the Press in her absence. To ensure that we’d show up, what with the lack of supervision and/or the recording of attendance, she assigned a response paper with specific questions pertaining to the documentary. UGH.

So, I was already annoyed, walking into class when I sat down and was confronted by the most irritating situation of the day. A loud mouth ginger girl who obnoxiously announced to the class that she had a cat named Mumford (ooh…sooo trendy of her) was sitting in the middle of the room, chatting at an ear-splitting level on her cell phone. Class hadn’t started yet, but the vibe of the 6 or 7 people who were also sitting in the room was that of hushed irritance. Yes, irritance. Her monopoly of airspace in the classroom made me feel as if I was supposed to keep quiet so as not to interrupt. Throughout the course of her 15 minute conversation, I learned that she was an idiot, and also the following things:  

*She currently makes about $20 a day at her job and that really sucks because Mumford is really high maintenance. I mean, he has to be neutered on Friday, but it’ll probably be cheap because he’s a boy.

*Her friend is taking forever to graduate. I mean, she’s already like 22.

*Her other friend gets a “ton” of financial aid because her dad got hurt at work or something and now he gets…what’s that called?…oh, disability. Yeah, he gets that, so she gets a TON of financial aid.

*Direct quote: “I only have classes two days a week. It really saves on gas. Haha, as to oppose of last semester!” Uh. WHAT?!

I spent the majority of class glaring at the back of her ginger head. I hope she felt it.

Jersey Shore is going Abroad?

I heard this tid-bit on the radio on my way to work this morning: Jersey Shore has been picked up for a fourth season. Not only that, but apparently the producers/powers that be at MTV thought it would be a great idea to send the cast to Italy.

I enjoy watching Jersey Shore as much as the next mouth-breather, but I know that it is a guilty pleasure. Not something I am proud of and not something I wish to emulate. Snooks, J-Woww (bless her heart), Deena (I guess), Ron Ron, Sitch, Paulie, Vinnie and even Sammi (the worst person in the world) are not ideal ambassadors for the US. Everyone knows that Jersey “Guidos” are so far removed from actual European Italian culture that immersing them in it could only result in offensive hilarity. The cast of Jersey Shore is nothing more than a parody of the Italian culture. It’s almost as if MTV is sending a real life satirical cartoon to live in the middle of its subject. Well done.

I will most definitely watch the train wreck unfold next season, but I will be perched on my high horse at the time.

OH. And, I almost forgot. I heard (also on the radio) that Ronnie can’t even get a visa to do the show next season. The government won’t process a visa request for someone with unresolved legal problems. Ron was indicted for the assault charges against him after he knocked that guy out with one hit. You know what I’m talking about. Well, the producers feel that Ron is such an integral part of the show (really?) that they appealed to the Embassy to rush through the visa request. REALLY?!

Your Body Knows Before You Do

There has been a deluge of pregnancy-related advertising on TV recently. I don’t know if there are actually more commercials for pregnancy tests than ever, or if I’m only just now noticing them due to the ever-ticking biological clock, but I do know that they are ridiculous!

The First-Response ad in particular really annoys me. It opens with, “Your body knows you’re pregnant before you do.” Well yes. Yes it does. The thing about your body is that it has to complete a series of events before a pregnancy can happen. A pregnancy takes place inside your body…so it stands to reason that it would know. It’s too bad your body can’t give you hints like hanging on to some uteral lining or creating some yummy nausea. Good thing there’s First-Response! First-Response knows before you do too! You just have to have the foresight to go to the store, purchase a test and pee on a stick. So essentially, First-Response is marketing to women who are systematically tracking their ovulation and holding their legs in the air after sex. The women who take a PG test three days after a love fest.

Having had the sinking “wait, what’s the date today?” feeling, I realize that when something so scary (or wonderful…ok ok) happens you’ll want to ease your mind immediately. However, I’ve found that denial works just fine until Aunt Flo finally decides to make her glorious appearance. After all, the body knows before you do!

You Know What They Say About First Impressions…

Well hello there. Welcome to the inside of my head. It’s a scary place full of random twists and turns but if you hold on tight, I think you’ll find it quite enjoyable. My body (mind really, but John Mayer didn’t sing about minds…) is a wonderland and you must be “this tall” to ride.

In order to understand why I am so easily annoyed and take such joy in “observing” others’ behavior, you should know that I am a very busy lady. I spend my days working at a low-level desk job inside a very smelly paint factory and my nights sitting in marathon classes at a local university. That combination is enough to drive anyone crazy. I find things especially annoying because I have what is termed a “superiority complex”. That, combined with my rich history of sarcasm is enough to start what I hope will be a pretty funny blog.

Most of the content will likely involve the antics of people I work with or people in my classes. I promise not to dwell on anything related to cats, children or my favorite recipes. I promise.

With all that being said, please check back daily to see what has annoyed me! I would love feedback, constructive or otherwise. This is my first attempt at “blogging”, so if I’m boring anyone to tears, please tell me to stop!