SAW THIS, HAD TO LAUGH

And cry, just a little.

For Marz. (Tried to make it as large as I could, but if you cannot read it check here. Or let me know and I will break it down into individual pages.)

SO LONG, YEAR ONE

I just took my last final, completing the first year of a two-year graduate program. I think I did alright. A mix of A's and B's. Now, I can just sit back and...

Oh crap, now what?

MUST... LOOK... AWAY...

I was chatting with a fellow grad student in class the other day, and I couldn't stop staring at the "love bump" on his lower lip.

It was awful. I felt myself staring. "Does he notice how distracted I am?" I wondered.

I did my best not to stare. Then I felt myself not staring, you know?

So awkward. And so sad (for him).

UM, OK...

A fellow grad student walked towards me in the hall, and then blurted out: "I heard about your 'dickhead'... niiiice."

There's a ton more to explain: the build-up to the comment, what she was actually referring to. But it is funnier just to leave it like this.

TOE-UP FROM THE FLO-UP

I was sitting in class, minding my own business, when I glanced over at a fellow student. I soaked in his ensemble for the day: leather jacket, polo shirt khakis and flip flops. OK, I thought. It's a choice.

But then I saw the biggest sin of all... long, gnarled toe nails.

Blech.

THANKS, BUT NO THANKS

I've been convalescing at home for the last week, and as I'm gearing up for the week ahead, I find I have a ton of writing to do. The standard application for word processing is Microsoft's Word.

As I'm typing, Word makes suggestions and corrects spelling (and yes, I know you can turn this function off). While I was typing, Word suggested replacing "is" with "be" in this sentence:


Thanks, Word, but no thanks.

But what do you expect from a company whose name means small and flaccid?

(Note to those of you out there who are writers: yes, this essay is awful. But this is just a first splash-down, for a prompt I don't like so cut me some slack.)

YIKES

The school I'm attending is celebrating its 50th Anniversary this year, so they're posting tons of old pictures on the home page. This was one of the latest:

... IN A GOOD WAY?

I had an odd, new experience at school today: during my first (2 o'clock) class, I had a frank, but helpful discussion with a fellow classmate. She's one of those super students, doing her BA and her Credential at the same time, Junior Year... we'll leave her name out of it.

This is the 4th week of class... just bear that in mind for this next part.

I got to my next class (Computing In the Classroom, or something with "Instruction" in the title). I look up, and see the same girl. "Hi," I sheepishly mutter.

"I was wondering when you were going to notice," she says with a smile.

I apologize, and head over to her lab station. We chat, laugh, share some war stories, and then she mentions that she's not surprised I hadn't noticed her in this class. "You're a superstar in all your classes." (Remember the way she worded this, for later.)

"In a good way?" I ask, nervously.

"In a great way," she adds, comforting me.

Flash forward to my last class of the day (Major Critical Theories of English Literature). I walk in... guess who. I'm not sure I actually blushed, but I felt my face getting hotter. This young lady was in 3 out of 5 of my classes - all on the same day, no less - and it took me a month to notice.

"Uh," I stammered, trying not to seem like the ass I was.

"In all your classes," I remember her saying, but I hear it now... for the first time. Her smile is a more ironic, "Do you get it now, smart-guy?" type.

Needless to say, we're BFFs now... I wonder if there's anyone else I'm missing.

I WOULD TRASH-TALK YOU, BUT...

I have no idea what you're saying.

I had to take a "Multiple Intelligences Test" for class this week. (You can take it for yourself here.) Here are my results:

What, exactly, is "nature smart"? And just because I don't enjoy logic puzzles doesn't mean I'm not a logical person. And I don't care what you say, I know myself pretty well.

Oh well. This "test" was put together by the Birmingham (UK) City Council.

TALES FROM THE TOITEY, Vol 1

WARNING: The following story is not for the faint of heart, squeamish or those of you @ssholes who voted yes on Prop 8. The rest of you dirty birdies, scuzz monkeys and other freaks, may proceed. And I say the word freak, knowing that I am one, dammit!

This is a true story.

I'm aware this junk goes on. I'm not stupid, and I'm by no means a prude.

But the other day, I was on campus, and heard the call of nature. I ducked into the nearest bathroom. As I was walking in, another, uh, gentleman entered at the same time. I politely held the door, and, while avoiding an outright smile, made eye contact to to let him know he should enter the bathroom before me.

He smiled, walked in and proceeded to the first (and only) urinal. Damn these small bathrooms....

Then, it happened. He made whatever preparations he was going to make for the business at hand, and then turned back at me and smiled. And it wasn't a polite, Thanks for holding the door open for me, smile. It was that kind of smile.

Again, just to clarify: I've been cruised before. Hell, I've even blatantly cruised before. But not in a bathroom, where the deuce is loose. I mean, c'mon. The smell of poo and the sounds of bowels releasing in dirty water isn't a much of a turn on. But there he was, maroon briefs, jeans down around the floor (OK, I peeked).

I waited until the stall was free, went in, did my biz and left.

The sad part was, he was a pretty good looking guy: nice body, decent face - I'm not sure about the maroon butt huggers, but the bottom line is that he didn't need to be cruising a public bathroom. I don't know, maybe it was the "thrill" of a public place for him. I get that. There's an elevator at UCLA a pal and I rocked once... that was hot. But that was different.

Or at least, that's what I tell myself. Who knows...

THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS!

So I was bad student, and I had a couple of overdue library books this week.

No biggie, right? I just braved the fires (everywhere, now, thanks), the smoke-filled air and bad-parking and made my way over to the liberry, all prepared to square this away. I owed a whopping $2.30 in fees, so I whipped out my wallet to pay, and I was told, "no."

No? What do you mean, no? I owe, I should pay... isn't that how this works? That's how it works everywhere else (just ask CitiBank). I was promptly informed the university forgives all student fees under $4.00 at the end of the semester. "So as long as you don't rack-up any more fees, you're cool," the young desk clerk told me.

No, that's not how it works. (Right?) So they sent me over to the "Fees & Fines Window." (Nice, that's more like it.) I surrendered my student ID, and got out my $3.00, all ready to pay the fine for having overdue books.

"No, man... you're cool," said that slack-jawed, young(er) desk clerk at this new window. Why yes, yes I am... thank you. But I'd like to pay my fee now. "No, man... I mean, you're cool. Don't worry about it."

I had him call over a supervisor, who explained that it costs more than $4.00 to collect fees, so anything less than that was forgiven at the end of the semester. Yes, I get that. I'd like to pay this fee so as to prevent me from reaching that $4 limit... the semester is far from over.

Long story short(er): they would not take my money. School-funding crisis? What school-funding crisis?

WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?

The Panda Express on campus has a new product: Sushi. Sushi is traditionally a Japanese food. Panda Express is, as their logo states, Chinese food. I thought, maybe there was a Chinese version of Sushi, so I checked Wikipedia, and found an article disambiguating the term (here). But no, Sushi is, in fact, Japanese food... being served, in this case, by a Chinese food chain. Everything else is made in China, so why not?

REFLECTIONS ON WEEK ONE

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know I started school last week. (If you're a regular reader of this blog, it might also mean you're getting enough fiber in your diet... but I digress.) I started the first week, of the first year of my Masters In Education, at California State University, Northridge (CSUN). I did my undergraduate, a decade ago, at UCLA, and this is an extremely different environment. (If you're not familiar with the way California schools are structured, there are three tiers, and I've moved from a first tier school to a second tier school, which isn't to say I've taken a step down.)

Here are some general impressions of my first week:

Hot, hot hot! No, not the student body (we'll get to that). I mean the campus. I'm not sure if it is because it is smack-dab in the middle of the San Fernando Valley (UCLA is in West Los Angeles, miles from the beach, so we got that ocean breeze), or what. But this campus is hot and muggy. Which may explain the...

Epidemic of bad skin. No, really. I have a few theories for this one, and they range from the poor air quality to the obvious age (and thus, hormone) differences (younger student body = bad skin). Or it could be that they're a bunch of potheads (marijuana does irritate the dermis, you know). But even if we put the questionable skin aside...

Where are all the hotties? The first tier schools, like Cal and UCLA, are supposed to be harder to get in to (and they are, trust me!), but that should mean the hot, dumb(er) ones go to second tier schools, like CSUN. But the reverse seems to be true, thus far: the hot kids went to UCLA, and the less-attractive ones seemed to end up here, at Northridge. (I wonder if I checked out the last tier, would I find the hidden hotties?)

It's great to be on a modern campus. UCLA is designed to look like an Eastern, Ivy League school, all bricks and European architecture. But CSUN is glass, concrete and steel - very sleek and modern. And it has all the newest technological conveniences. (High-speed internet existed back when I was in school, but wireless internet was in its infancy.) This makes for a different experience - not sure how I feel about this in the long-run. It's making me feel sorta old.

I love the material I'm covering. OK, so grammar isn't that interesting, but it's great to dive, head-on into something familiar, but with new staff and new goals. I'm looking forward to the next two years.

WELL SOMEBODY'S MEAT IS MOVING

On the freeway home from school today, I saw a truck labeled Meatheads Moving Co.... Professionally Trained Student Athlete Movers. OK, I'm going to ignore the ambiguous subtitle (are the professionally trained athletes or professionally trained athletes?), and focus on the concept itself. The yummy, tasty idea of big, athletic lunkheads coming into your home and moving you out/in. The driver of the truck wasn't all that attractive, but a quick trip to their web site found, well, uh... this:

If I have to explain why this is a great photo, well, you're either a) not very bright, or b) new to my blog.