Hehe. I should be writing my PAPER right now...
I will.
Then I'll go to lab. Quick update first.
Work on Friday went as I suspected it would, complete with the Evil Etc. Bitch Monster in full regalia. I have come to the conclusion that she is simply devoid of any social, personal, professional, or emotional decorum whatsoever ("Evil Bitch Monster" is, however, completely acceptable...). The girl is clueless. Here's a bit of deductive logic for ya:
Premise: 1. Evil Bitch Monster is completely clueless.
Premise: 2. Clueless people are incapable of intelligent, warm, decent behavior; it would be pointless to expect intelligent, warm, decent behavior from clueless people.
Intermediate Conclusion: 3. Evil Bitch Monster is incapable of intelligent, warm, decent behavior, and it would be pointless to expect such behavior from her.
Moral of the story: If one is privy to the above knowledge, one can eliminate, or considerably reduce, the amount of stress caused by EBM simply by keeping Intermediate Conclusion Number Three in mind at all times. Therefore, any intelligent, warm, or decent behavior that EBM may, by accident, display will be seen as an unexpected but happy glitch in the system. Any such displays should not be counted as evidence disproving the above theorem, because IWD behavior is only IWD if done out of the kindness of one's heart, without expectation of reciprocation, payback, or likewise. It should be noted that EBM's accidental kindnesses, rather than happy glitches, are more likely acts of manipulation (roll the tape, please).
One good thing I will say: Sure makes good fodder for revisiting my philosophy of religion class. AND I THOUGHT I'D FORGOTTEN DEDUCTIVE REASONING.
Pshaw.
Okay, one quick housekeeping item: If anyone is displeased with their photos on the page (or the lack of), send me a new picture. Some of you (well, all of you - hence this site's existence) live waaaay far away, and I can't put up recent, decent photos if I have none in my possession. If I haven't been out to see you and you haven't been to Milwaukee in the last year, then this applies to you. Yes, I know that there are members of the fam who are mysteriously absent from the page (i.e., Dad, Kirstin, Fletcher, the three remaining in utero... hello, hi, I know you're out there, I love you, someday you'll have one big page all to yourself....Kelly, Vaughan...).
It's a website, folks. A place for fun, laughter, and love. A warm, happy environment for us to share, reflect, ponder.... It's not a who's who list. If it was, then none of you would be on it. It'd just be one giant pic of Engelbert Humperdinck. 'Cause, you know, he's Engelbert fucking Humperdinck. 'Nough said.
On that note...All's well here. Played hooky a little last week (well, Maddie was sick with a cold), now trying to play catch-up. Fun stuff. Anyone wanna write a paper on sexuality and physical relationships in F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Ice Palace," Jamaica Kincaid's "Girl," Chetkovich's "Appetites," and Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love"? 1,750 words, typed, double-spaced, standard margins. Oh, and could you trace the path of a drop of blood through the circulatory system, paying special attention to the specific areas of the heart? Calculate hematocrit (what the fuck is hematocrit)? How about dissecting a fetal pig for me (make sure to clearly label whether it's the right or left carotid artery, the cranial or caudal vena cava) And while you're at it, could you prove that
nCr is given by the recursion formula nCr= n-r+1/r * nCr-1
while also chasse-ing, pas-de-bourre-ing, and pirouette-ing your little head right off its neck?
(Okay, well, ONE of you could prove the above, no problem - but you don't count 'cause ... well, 'cause I say so. Smart ass).
Work's work. Patio is closed (hooray!), so looks like I'll be losing my Thursdays once Zwiers (co-worker) gets back from Europe. *sniff* We'll see. Yours truly finally took a stand against the Evil Dumper of Silverware-Rolling Non-Cocktailing Holier Than Holier Than Holy Hell Itself Ketchup-Spilling Nasal Voice Monster last Friday, so we'll see how much bullshit gets dumped on me tonight.
("siddown, siddown, siddown you're rockin' the boat...")
Kurt wins Stephanie's Hero of the Week Award for bringing me flowers at work last night FOR NO APPARENT REASON. They're purty. Purty Kurty flahrs.
Off I go. Hair smells like hush puppies and cigarettes.
Ew.
A rough draft of the photo page is up!
Maddie called me "Mother" today.
"Maddie, I'm not going to carry you. You're a big girl, you can walk."
"Okay, Mother."
Two years old and she's already mastered the art of sarcasm. I almost screamed. That's, like, one step away from "Mommy Dearest."
My daughter hates me. But she is now responding independently to her bladder's potty cues, so... the scales tip. "Mommy" is to "Mother" as "Persistent Inquiry" is to "Independent Pissing"...
And she speaks in complete sentences.
Last week: "Mommy! Maddie, up!"
This week: "Mother, would you be so kind as to elevate me to a higher platform from which I will be able to reach a fork, some water, and a light socket, please?"
And she grew six inches. Seriously. Six inches.
Next week: "Mom, can I, like, go smoke crack with a 40-year-old jobless illegal alien? He's, like, toootally awesome."
Brain....cracking....can't.....see.....synapses.....loaded.......danger.....danger....
Okay, so it's way late and I need to study... First day back at school today, semester is already in full swing. In brief, I have two short stories to read and a circulatory system to turn inside-out and memorize in the next two days. And I haven't even started calculus yet - that's tomorrow. Yick. Let the fun begin...
Memphis rocked. We rocked Memphis. $450 in records between the two of us. Funk, soul, blues, R&B, garage...you name it, we bought it. Barry White? Check. The Delfonics? Check. Link Wray? Check. Billie Holiday, Big Boy Crudup, James Brown, Neil Diamond, The Temptations, Marlene Dietrich (yes, that Marlene Dietrich)...Check, check, check, check, checkmate. Ate dinner at a place that used to be a service station. Ate ribs. Drank Pabst (surprisingly hard to find). Swam in the hotel pool. Went to Graceland. Saw some jumpsuits, took a flash photograph in the tv room (naughty), and saw a whole lotta gold and platinum. We laughed, we cried (not really - if we did, it was only because we were laughing so hard). It was beautiful. Kurt's conclusion? "Memphis ain't got shit on you and me."
*sniffle*
And now I'm back in school with a kick ass English teacher from New Yawk and a miserably self-centered anatomy instructor whose primary goal is to get us to buy her miserable artwork, rather than to teach us anatomy. "We're studying blood. I'm a doctor of genetics. Here's a picture I did of myself, superimposed over an image of a microscopic view of butterfly wings, symbolizing the masks we all wear in our social lives, as well as the fact that underneath those masks, we are all..." butterflies? How beautiful. Pass the tissue. The ink on her doctorate is still wet, I'm sure. Seriously. At least 15% of the slides she showed today were of her own artwork. That'd be like...well, like me having my own website dedicated to me bitching about, well, me....
Comments, hate mail, etc.: c/o Stephanie Thorvalson.... Or you can click on the handy link. The one that says "Comments."
Yeah. That one right there.