Take these broken tests and learn to cry

I'm waiting for my exam grade to post on Blackboard, which requires that I log in EVERY TIME I want to check it as a security measure. And every time I do, I keep singing to myself, "Blackboard singing in the dead of night..."

I'm on hyperdrive. I have exactly 17 minutes of a break until my next session of writing craziness. This class is insane. I don't have time to write about it, but suffice it to say that we are all sleep deprived, and I'm not sure how any human can do this amount of work plus an assistantship, plus a practicum, and plus another class. A girl fell asleep in the middle of class discussion today. We only have 7 people in the class, and we were sitting in a circle. Poor thing. I couldn't laugh. I was fading myself.

If Dr. Kermit weren't so damned cute...

Addendum

It did drop almost 40 degrees. It is 66 outside, and it was at 107 yesterday and in the 90s this morning. Wow.

Fast breaking news story

So I'm sitting in class today, and I have this sudden realization that I kind of have the hots for my professor. This isn't so out of the ordinary--he's lanky, wears glasses, granolaish, and devastatingly geeky with big feet. But there's something that keeps bothering me about the attraction. He reminds me of someone. But who? Who is it? I keep listening to the voice, watching the mannerisms, and then he does this little squeaky thing with his voice when he is passionate about a subject and suddenly, I know who it is--AAAA! LOL! Just that realization made me start giggling uncontrollably in class. I had to excuse myself.

Ah man. Anyway, class ends, and I'm walking across campus in shorts and a tank when out of nowhere this freak thunderstorma and hailstorm hits. People begin running like it's Armageddon. I can't run because I'm in the most slippery flip flops imaginable. Then, the temp drops about 30 degrees it seemed, and people cram into the bookstore to buy sweatshirts, and I hate to say it, but I was among the throng. It is FREEZING!!

And now it's off for a nap but not before I recount the events of yesterday. I was at my practicum, when we hear this screeching and crashing sound. One of the women says, "Omg, did you see that," and I begin looking in the direction of the crash, when the other woman screams, "Kim, look out, he's behind you!" Yes, behind my desk, separated only from me by a pane of thin glass, was this man on the run from what appeared to be the SWAT Team. Unmarked police trucks come circle the building, and men in flak jackets and ski masks pour out like clown cars to chase the guy down.

Lubbock is becoming more exciting folks.

Pearly Whites

Today is a day that I would really like to get paid for my smile again. I'll settle for the $4 I got for selling my books back. Guh.

Me llamo baño?

So I left the crazy coffee shop to study elsewhere since there was a residue of weird energy (perhaps from the refractory reincarnation beams) left in the room. Plus, I needed some guacamole, so off it was to one of my favorite little Lubbock-Mex places in town. This month they are running a special on margaritas: Top Shelf are the same price as House, plus you get an extra shot of your fave top shelf tequila as a floater. The food is good, too, and I'm a sucker for any place with homemade tortillas. Anyway, they were having a contest of liquor consumption with several other Lubbock-Mex restaurants in town, so they were begging us to stay after hours and have more fishbowl shaped 'ritas. Guy next to me paid, and who am I to say no to such a worthy cause?

But the thing about this place is the bathroom. They pipe in language learning tapes, which I've heard in restaurants before, but this one is on a perpetual loop so that all you learn to say in Spanish is your name. It repeats: "Me llamo Carlos. Me llamo Sara. Me llamo Ricardo Montalban." You get the picture. Anyway, by the second or third fishbowl (and subsequent shots the bartenders gave us randomly to keep us there), we began calling the bathroom the Me llamo, as in, "I need to Me llamo." "Excuse me, I must go me llamo." "Pardon me, I hear the me llamo calling." "Oh, what the hell, I'll have another. I just me llamoed."

It traveled 'round the bar area to the waitstaff, and so I encourage you all to use the euphemism, "Excuse me, where are your me llamos?," the next time you are out and about. Maybe it will be the catch phrase that sweeps the nation.

The exorcism of Emily Rose?

So I'm at the crazy coffee shop again. And I'm thinking that maybe this coffee shop is the new Catbirds because not since Catbirds have I seen such intriguing people. Today, however, was the weirdest.

Huddled in a corner was a fruit salad of people: one British guy, a bird looking older female, a man who looks like Omar Sharif, and 3 non-descript Lubbock-Americans. They were all having the strangest conversation, and at first, I thought I was witnessing a cult initiation. And it might be that the cult thing is right on, but the more I listened in, the more I am convinced there is something deeper.

They kept having this conversation about good spirits and bad spirits and light beams and refractory reincarnation, which I have googled and have only come up with this, a site which only furthers my hypothesis that what I witnessed was some type of stereotypical alien brainwashing technique a la 1967. Note the meteorite reference.

Anyway, so they have these conversations about good spirits and bad spirits. Of course, the bad spirits were all of the rest of us in the shop, and the good spirits dwelled inside the recruits, and it's not worth recanting the actual script of the convo as it is to convey the tone with which it was said. First of all, anyone who is an avid B sci fi movie fan knows that the bad alien generally has a British accent or at least an affected one. Plus, the other 3 cronies were repeating everything he said in this sing song tone.

And then, boy #1 brings out the holy laptop. And Bird Woman and Sharif start whispering in this undecipherable language. And I SWEAR the woman hisses like a snake as boy #2 mentions holy water. British Alien puts his hand out in a very calm Khanlike manner and silences Bird Woman with a look. It became very cold--in the coffee shop. British villain explains to the Lubbockites that holy water will not do in this instance. Talking, speaking soothing speech will suffice.

And then all of a sudden, louder than a damn movie theater, there is a beeping. And then a woman speaks via the internet. Boy #1 explains to her that he is here with Ka'el and friends and Ka'el (British chap) breaks in and says soothingly: "It is time. Put the boy on."

So then this freakin kid comes on Skype screaming bloody murder and probably vomiting pea soup, to boot. He/she (hard to tell with the screaming) does this for about 5 minutes straight, loud enough that the entire coffee shop is staring in the general direction of the freak corner. Then Ka'el says, "It is complete" (what is complete? The kid is still screaming), and they disconnect. Laptop closes. Talk commences about the farm and living opportunities on the compound (ok, I embellished that one), and then they all walk away.

Really? WTF was that? Dorksided.

A real live mouseketeer

And I thought they were extinct like leprechauns, unicorns, and debutantes. G, you would appreciate this.

Really, I'm sitting at the coffee shop working on coding interviews, and I keep hearing this voice that sounds like a person on helium. And there is a kid in here, but her mouth is not moving, so unless she is a ventriliquist, it's not her. And then I see her, it's a full grown woman, but her voice is like Minnie Mouse. In fact, her voice is like Minnie if Minnie sucked down some helium. It's crazy wild!!! I just KNOW she is from Disneyland. I am so excited. And she's wearing gingham and a little sweater with a total Disneyfied haircut. I think she's short, too, G. Want me to get her number?