Emerging from Muck

Have had the stomach flu, a paper to write, and much research to do. It has been a busy few days, and I am weaker for it.

Plus, I am still fighting for my scholarship and am nearing the point when I scream my bloody head off, stand up on someone's desk, and start kicking papers around (not necessarily in that order). Seriously, I am in a financial crisis from these people, and they are giving me the run around and flat out lying and have been since April. That's the only way to put it. My only solace is to imagine punching them in the face repeatedly and then doing that little Zohan finger and foot thing: Smell it, smell it, smell it. Now take it! That's for you!

So today I was able to eat some broth and a potato. This thing is going around. Basically, you are fine, and then you get a massive headache and begin throwing up in the middle of the night for about an hour. The next day, you feel like a truck ran over you, and then you get to repeat it the next night. Luckily, it only lasts 48 hours. The sad thing is that I had made this divine little casserole, and I cannot even look at it bc, well, I'll spare you the details. Ugh. And I just can't afford to throw good food away. Sigh. Maybe I'll freeze it.

And then, as expected, I'm dancing the red tape tango with the tech school I taught at for a stint last year, W2 (or 4, which is it) wise. Blugga!

And yes, I still should rant about my landlord, but I just don't have the strength to do the post justice.

I'm back, sort of

My router is all f'd up, so it takes longer than dial up to connect to any webpage, and when it does, it doesn't pull up anything hi-res. Needless to say, I haven't blogged since Feb 27. The only internet access I've had has been at work, and right now, I'm at a local pub using the wifi.

So what's happened in over a month? I don't remember, so it must've been good. Here are the highlights I recall in no particular order:

* SBT won't talk to me anymore. I'm a threat.
* 2shirts and I got a little tipsy over a bottle of really good wine at a local wine bar. We were grading papers at the time. A glassful of vino helps the grading go down...
* Finished up work at Crazytech. Whew!
* Met a bunch of rocket scientists at the local pub. Yes, literally, they are rocket scientists. Why did that night remind me of a night out with Glinda?
* # of hangovers: 4. Evidentally I have not taken up G's need to end consumerism.
* # of visits to Bizarro Catbirds: 0
* # of visits to Catbirds: 1; I did not get blitzed, but I did have one Caucasian and scared Nerfherder a bit. I think I've become a Maneater.
* # of men frightened: 4
* Spent an entire Friday at the art museum in the old hood. I miss the old hood.
* Made $300 at a fundraiser. Thanks, guys.
* Pretended to be a photographer at a wedding. 110 pics out of 300 something were good. Works for me. Hopefully it works for the artist formally known as Narc.
* Narc is now known as BJ, not for his ability or desire to give or receive BJs but because he is Bizarro Jerry. This requires an entire post to itself, but I'm not sure I'm up to it today.
* Met the New Narc or NuNarc as he will be dubbed on this blog. Unbelievable. Apparently he thinks I'm pretty but not hot enough to make him want to rip off my dress. Wow. What a ladies man.
* Favorite text message [from Glinda]: "I'm watching a Mariah Carey video with unicorns. WTF? Oh, and a midget spanked me." Apparently, she was not high.
* Hung out at same local pub with some guys who race professionally. I actually used the term Chilton manual in a conversation. Note to self: professional race boys don't like Chimay, only drink Bud products, and think older women are hot. Nice to know.
* Was approached to apply for a position as an Old Spice Girl. That's Old Spice the product, not an old Spice Girl. Still, it makes me giggle. I see myself next to Sporty with Old Spice written in Sharpie across my chest singing: "So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.."
* # of times I've declined a drink from someone with a beer tshirt on at ye local pub since I've started writing this post: 4.

That's about it, folks. I'd post about the Bizarro Jerry thing, but it's lost its humor, I fear.

*

Where is the love?

The only place I've found it today was in the dumpster.

Radford and Regina were having a love feast a la Lady and the Tramp this evening in the apartment dumpster. That was the crowning Aw Moment of my day.

Hellish Highlights:

* I began the day with 2 hours of sleep and a sour stomach from rich Caucasians (of the beverage kind).

* Work. Patriarchal Xians with control issues. Enough said.

* Other work: at the Trekkie school I teach at, I was sent an email reprimanding me for not locking a door. The IT person apparently has been irritated for weeks about how several profs haven't locked the classroom doors when they finished lecturing (because WHO does that?). So she sends an email directly to the college president complaining about it. She claims to have conducted a test, inciting her student assistants to "steal" a computer out of my room and march it out the door at 9pm after I had gone, and then is amazed that no one even noticed him stealing it. Let me set this up for you. This computer is the one BOLTED DOWN to a desk in the room, the one that the instructor uses for powerpoint, etc. To steal it, someone would need to take tools into the room to unbolt it. So she apparently gave tools to her aides and told them to take it, which she promptly and proudly put in her office. She then sends said email to the fucking president, who immediately shoots back, "Who is this instructor? What is their name?" She tells him my name and says that she will notify my department head. Come the fuck on! The email chain continues up the ladder to the dean and department head, who sends me an email saying, "Lock the door." The story spread throughout the college, prompting constant Office Space-esque comments about how I am having problems with my door locking. It also prompted a slew of emails about how security needs to be tightened since someone can walk out of an office with a computer and no one says a word (see #5 in the paragraph below).

Ok #1--seriously, if you are the head of IT at a technical school and you have nothing better to do on a thursday night than to fake a computer stealing scam, you are not doing your job; #2--if you are the president of a college and you have nothing better to do than investigate the name of an employee who didn't lock a door, you are not doing your job; #3--who the fuck sends an email to the president of a college about an unlocked door? Chain of command here, people!; #4--again, how many of you college educators out there lock the door after you leave it?; #5--the IT department aide is coming out of the door with a computer--who in the hell would suspect foul play?

* Glinda. Glinda has proven once and for all that she is the greater evil. And she will pay.

There is no love for Cranky today. Even Jeffery N remains aloof.

A.S.S--Anglo Saxon Sex

Ok, so I want to make a little extra cash since everything in my life is costing way too much or is starting to break down and cost too much. I went today to a local career college on an interview for an adjunct composition teacher. The interview went well, as did the teaching presentation, but the questions they asked were just odd.

Dean: So how comfortable are you with the Anglo Saxon 4 letter word for sex?

Me: [quizzical look, resisting the urge to say, "You mean FUCK?"] Um, in what capacity?

Dean: Well, these students get off work in their work boots with mud all over their shoes, and most likely they'll sit in the back of your class uttering that word like it's appropriate for formal dinner conversation.

Me: I've taught in inner city schools and in Pasadena; I'm not really bothered by foul language. [resisting the urge to say, "I say FUCK all the time. It's like second nature, especially in formal dinner conversation."]

**Question 2**

Dean: So the syllabus is written out for you already but there's a little room for creativity within the strict barriers. Are you ok with that?

Me: [ after naming some examples of creative ideas I've had in the classroom] So would I be able to use blogs in lieu of normal classroom journals?

Dean: Where would you get this--blog--you speak of?

Me: [startled again since I am applying for a job at a fucking technical school] Um, they're out there everywhere. Blogger. Live Journal.

Dean: I've never heard of this--Blogger--you speak of [he's sounding way like Captain Kirk right now]. How do you do it?

Me: [brief intro to blogging]

Dean: Hmm. That sounds really nice. I bet the students would really like that. Just make sure they don't write anything derogatory about the school online. One time this student had a sex website going that was dedicated to the school. The board didn't like that much.

Me: yes, I'll add that to my syllabus

**Situation 3--the teaching presentation**

I did a presentation on freewriting, where I passed out pictures and asked the two interviewers to write about what they see, feel, think about the picture without stopping until I tell them to stop.

Dean's response to his choice of a classic black stiletto with clippings of blond hair all around it: This picture is totally cool. I can totally see the students picking this one. It's like a midget crossdresser.

Me: [stunned silence]

Yeah, so so weird.