I'm running on fumes at this point, so in lieu of a properly crafted little essay, I present, well, these.
What does it say about my viewing habits that my top recommendation at Netflix is Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle? And what does it mean that I'm considering taking them up on it?
In recounting a conversation with her friend, The Girl said “put it back, said me.” She's beginning to grasp the narrative form. I'm inordinately proud of this.
In the gym, they sometimes have the CNN morning show on the tv. Apparently, the O'Briens have been cashiered, and replaced by some windbag and Kiran Chetry. The windbag is neither here nor there, but any excuse to put Kiran Chetry on tv is fine by me. This is excellent motivation to go to the gym. I get a vague sense that if you stand really close to her, you could hear the ocean, but whatever. Note to CNN: well done.
It's been three consecutive nights of being awakened by The Girl coughing. I'm beginning to remember that zombie-like feel of sleep deprivation from those first few months. Sleep deprivation does not mesh well with the rubber chicken circuit. We've started her on the pink stuff, based on her doctor's diagnosis of a double ear infection. Bleah.
My brother's high school friend, with whom he's still in close touch, has been called back to Iraq. He already did a year there; now he's facing another 15 months. Whatever you think of the war – regular readers can pretty much peg my view on it – it's still scary to hear that a family friend will be put, again, in harm's way. He actually mentioned that he's glad that he and his relatively new bride haven't had kids yet.
Flagship State accepts our regular composition courses in transfer, but doesn't accept the “honors” versions. I discovered this when one of our strongest students, about to graduate, showed up upset. Nobody has been able to explain the logic. Your tax dollars at work!
In the last few days, scientists have discovered both kryptonite and a potentially inhabitable planet. Coincidence? That's just what they want you to think...
If this counts as a planet, then I say so should Pluto.
What's with the bees? Apparently, bees are dropping dead left and right. I'll admit that my first instinct is “hooray,” since I've been mad at them ever since grad school, when one stung me on the forehead at 3 in the morning while I was asleep. (I was also stung in 1985, when I was at my local cc for driver's ed. I went to the nurse's office for some ice to put on the sting. Following protocol, they notified security, who questioned me. I described the bee as yellow and black, with a bad attitude. I don't know if they ever caught the little bugger.) This “don't bother them and they won't bother you” thing is crap. Still, without adequate pollination, it sounds like things could get ugly. (Make grad school joke here.) Where are Leonard Nimoy's killer bees when you need them?
In chatting with a co-worker, I discovered that Piqua, Ohio, actually exists. Apparently, it used to host an annual underwear festival. I'm not making that up. My familiarity with Piqua derived entirely from the Captain Underpants series, which I enjoy reading to TB. (This may partially answer my question about Harold and Kumar, come to think of it.) Dav Pilkey has been quoted saying that he set Captain Underpants in Piqua because of its annual underwear festival. These are the things I think about when I should be thinking about other things.
If I read one more story about an Ivy League university freezing tuition to encourage access, I'll pop. Ivy League universities aren't about access. They're about exclusivity. Besides, the amount by which Princeton raised its room and board fee was more, by itself, then the amount by which we raised our tuition. Base rates, people. But they get the laudatory headlines, and we get grilled over a tuition increase. Grrrr.
Etiquette question: let's say, for the sake of argument, that a preposterous blowhard who treated you with utter contempt in grad school has come out with a new book. And let's say, for the sake of argument, that the book is being received horribly. Let's go farther, and say that the guy is absolutely embarrassing himself by making such a patently absurd argument. Let's say that it's so ridiculously stupid that it retrospectively discredits much of his earlier work, which you had long thought overrated anyway. Do you
a. laugh like Nelson, on The Simpsons – Ha Ha!
b. laugh like a supervillain – Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!
c. let fly a giddy torrent of profanity, and hoist a few cold ones to the memory of the smug bastard's credibility
d. smile to yourself, reflect that living well is the best revenge, and post a snarky multiple-choice question on your pseudonymous blog
e. all of the above