A phone call with my mother

So I talked to my mother on the phone last nite. She tried to convince me that I'm a grown man. I disagreed.

Obviously I won the argument.

In other news, I completed all my homeworks, and on time even. It's sort of a christmas miracle.

And I'm finally getting some use out of my old law school textbooks.




In other news, it's been a slow week (year?) for the blog; I'd complain, but you know, sounds like too much work to even do that.

The Alumni magazine

So the graduate school Gal and I attend (reluctantly, mind you) is semi-prestigious (according to some sources). The school takes pride in this semi-prestige, mainly because it allows them greater pull when hitting up the alumni for donations (which is something that once I'm an alumnus I will never give in to).

Part of their strategy for procuring the chedda' from rich graduates is to print up a bi-monthly magazine about recent happenings in the school. The compilers of this rag lean heavily on two main sources for material- they like to open the magazine with a list of student accomplishments, and close with a list of donors and the amount of their donations (using their readerships' propensity towards competing with each other, brilliant).

In the most recent issue the list of student achievements tragically omits the black-face scandal that hit the school in September (yes, a student actually came to school in blackface, and not in an ironic nor protesting manner- he was into it.). But it does highlight a few of the summer feats of my peers.

One of those featured students is a fucking toad. I mean that literally; he looks like he was the spawn produced by an unfortunate e-harmony pairing of Kermit the Frog and Professor Umbridge. But over the summer he got some fancy bullshit job because his parents are loaded (again, I mean that literally- fucking drunks. But rich, too) and so now the magazine wants him prominently featured.

That's the extent of my knowledge of this particular person, except for one other thing. Last spring during finals week my neighbor was making small talk with me, and happened to mention that while he was in the engineering library some damn law student was walking around asking people if he could buy any adderall from them. He then went on to describe the odd appearance of this person, noting his strange proportions. I asked if perhaps this mystery slimeball looked like a giant baby, or perhaps a toad. My neighbor confirmed this diagnosis as being "eerily accurate."

Yes, he was cold-calling strangers for unprescribed children's ADD medication. Why don't they put that in the magazine? Or at least a picture of him sitting on his lilypad.

These are my peers, and why I hate school (one of the reasons anyway).

The Carroll County Accident

In addition to being an enigmatic classic country song, "The Carroll County Accident" is what I call the girl who sits in front of me during one of my bullshit classes.

I can't stand her. She's a real piece of work. Or shit. Whatever. I'm going to try to describe her. But it's going to be hard for me to do- if I'm going to write about her I have to think about her, and if I have to think about her I have to keep throwing up.

Her name is Carroll. Like a song you sing at christmas. Except instead of being jolly and merry, she makes you want to die.

I guess the first thing you should know is that she's tall, very tall. Like the world trade center before it fell down. And oddly shaped. Like an hourglass, only the opposite. I could compare her hips to a wildebeest, but I won't. But I will compare her feet to hog hooves. Even though a more accurate description would be to say that her feet are each a whole hog. And she wears a lot of open-toed shoes. Maybe I should say "open-toad shoes." Have you ever seen a cane toad? They're disgusting. And that's what she walks on. Or if we were to maintain the swine analogy I'd say each foot looks like a pig in a pen that's way too small for it. If this girl could somehow impale two piglets onto her stumps, well, that's what we're dealing with.

And her hair, my god her hair. Until I heard her voice, I didn't think anything above her neck could be worse than her hair. It looks like a beaver tail. If beaver tails were made of birds' nests. Her voice is beyond nasally, like if fran drescher and Alvin the Chipmunk procreated (which would explain the hair).

Anyway, I hate her. And the other day she was talking to the guy who sits next to her (he must have done some real fucked up stuff in a past life) and she was telling him how she loves beauty pageants. She saw the miss america bullshit live last year. And she sometimes competes. She told him more about it, but at this point it was every man for himself and I left the room.

What the fuck.

Also, this is what her feet look like in her fancy high heels: