Archive for Rants

Things that involve anger towards professors

Now, I love most of my classes. I really do. I’m a nerd who thinks sckool + learnding = fUn!

But.

If a professor changed a week’s reading assignment (which, btw, is outlined in a 42 page syllabus) and says that the weekly quiz for next week would be based mostly on newly assigned reading from the textbook, and less on the other 2 readings he might assign, what would you expect?

 

Would you expect for 3 out of 6 questions to be based on a reading assigned 3 weeks ago? And one on class discussion from 2 weeks ago? And only 2 on the actual reading for this class?

No?

Well, obviously you haven’t been taking Social and Behavior Sciences for International Health concentrators.

 

Lucky fucking you.

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Things about wars on mice

Alright.  This is getting ridiculous.

I have one phobia. One. It’s irrational (hence, phobia), and stupid. But very real.

Mice. Ugh. I hate them.

If there’s a mouse in my house, I have a hard time sleeping. I imagine them crawling on me, and every time the wind blows and bends a window screen or makes the house creak, I am convinced it’s mice infesting and breeding in the walls.

But I’m pretty sure the universe has decided my phobia is so neurotic, it’s going to make it a goal to mock me as much as humanly possible.

Every place I have ever lived has had mice, with the (somewhat odd) exception of my apartment senior year of college (although my roommate had cats for half that year, which could have contributed.).

When I moved into my apartment in Boston, the absolute first thing I saw in our kitchen was a dead mouse stuck in a trap.  Naturally, I freaked out, called my sister, and waited for my roommate to come and clean it up. And barely slept that first night, despite assurances from the landlord and the exterminator they were convinced that was the last one they just hadn’t been able to catch.

Fast forward 2+ months, and surprisingly, there’s actually been no additional evidence of any mice!  Until now…

As a mouse phobic, I’m highly sensitive to mouse droppings, and based on the tiny size of these droppings, we’re looking at baby mice. No.  FUCK THAT.  I’m not having fucking baby mice making my house into their breeding ground.  That’s literally my worst nightmare.  Nuh uh.

War.

Mouse war #1, earlier this year in a different city, started with peppermint, was taken care of by blocking up holes and entry points, and our feelings were mollified by D-Con tablets left out.

Fuck that. This time I’m starting with the D-Con.

Which I sort of bought without consulting all my roommates.  But I don’t really understand people who don’t want mice to get the hell out of their house by any means necessary. ‘Cuz I’m a bad person apparently.

It’s time for these fuckers to die.

God, I hate mice.

(Ironically enough, in 3 days I’m going to see a very big mouse, and I couldn’t be happier.  It might help that a) he’s not real, b) he’s in Florida.)

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Things about WTF PROFESSOR?! and other such angry outbursts

Dear Professors of the World:

Here’s a thought.  If you normally assign your class 40-100 pages of reading a week, you just miiiiiiight want to give them a heads’ up the week you decide to drop 400 pages of reading on them.

Oh, and – again, just a thought – perhaps if you explicitly tell said students NOT to read Section 10c (but read the rest of sections 3-15 (see aforenoted 400 pages)), you shouldn’t take a question on the weekly quiz WORD-FOR-WORD from the aforementioned nixed-section 10c.

Oh, and – just one more teeny tiny thing – maybe the rest of the questions from the online quizzes should be based on the actual readings, not your own Pulled-From-Your-Ass  sources.  Just since, you know, it’s nice and all when you tell us the answer to the question 85% of the class missed is on page 99, when, in reality, that page has absolutely no relevance to that topic.  (It’s cool though… not like that makes me think you completely made that question/answer up out of nowhere or anything. Really.)

But you know… don’t mistake this for passive aggressive bitching, or anything. I promise, these are all just meandering thoughts. It’s all on page 99, check it out.

Ex oh, Ex oh, Love, Me

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Things about Milton Bradley

Dear Milton Bradley:

Remember when I was at that game you threw the ball into the crowd with 2 outs? Yeah. I was mad… but I forgave you.

Remember when I was at that game where you dropped two balls in right field in one game, and struck out every time you were at the plate? Yeah. I was mad… but I forgave you.

Remember the entire month of June? And May? Oh, and April, too? Yeah. Forgiven.

With some trepidation, I rallied around you one more time when you swore you “were back 100%” in late July, and I proceeded to give you more chances, because, hell, you’re on the team I love, ergo, you are automatically a beneficiary of some of my hopeless but perpetual optimism.

Really. I’m a Cubs fan. I stick by my team through thick and thin. I suffer through pain and disappointment on a yearly basis. A lot of disappointment.  And I forgive. I don’t boo players on my team or the opponent’s, ‘cuz I think that’s asshatty.

But seriously? All that being said?

Get off my fucking team.

You are the worst parts of baseball all rolled into one.

Get off my team.

Get off my team.

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Things about HOLY SHIT BOSTON STREETS

Oh, hey, I moved to Boston. Yeah.

I don’t know what the fuck the founders of Boston were drinking when they put together Boston’s streets, but I think they may have overdone it.

I’m pretty damn good with maps and directions and geography, so imagine my surprise when I arrived in Boston and immediately turned in 17 wrong directions.  Seriously.  I’ve never seen a city with LESS sense in its urban planning and development. It actually makes anit-sense.

It’s like someone threw spaghetti down on a map of foggy Boston Bay area back in the 1700s and was like, “I shall design this array of spaghetti-strewn geniusness as streets! The pasta gods have deemed it so!”

I don’t know who to blame for changing street names every 4 blocks. That seems like something that could have been fixed in the past 300 years or so. Lazy gits.*

Impressively ridiculous, Boston.

Tomorrow means time to get out my bike… so I can get hopelessly lost in Boston by a 3rd type of transportation in a week.

* Actually, when I expressed my displeasure re: Boston streets to a former Bostonian, his reply was something along the lines of: “Bostonians were too busy saving everyone’s candy asses from the redcoats to care about streets, motherfucker!”

Alright, fine. That’s a half valid excuse at least.

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Things that I throw at the Cubs

During today’s abysmal “game” the Cubs played (I refuse to admit that tripe was for anything but minor league practice), a friend (“Mo”) and I (“Me”) consoled each other by using the time-honored tradition of “Madness-inspired mockery medicine” via gchat.  It was the only unpainful part of the experience.

And because this is MY BLOG I get to repost it here Mwhahahahah!!!:

Mo: does my fantasy team win a prize for last place?

Me: sure they do. they get to meet aaron heilman.

Mo: uh, is the prize really called “an opportunity to kill aaron heilman”?
bc if so ill pick him up…

Me: IF THAT WAS THE PRIZE I WOULD JOIN YOUR LEAGUE AND PICK HIM UP SO I COULD WIN LAST PLACE

Mo: bob: “we’d like to envision what the cubs would be like if they played to their potential every game”
i hate len.
i tolerate bob

Me: i ignore them and pretend they’re ron or pat
Bob: “we keep playing like that, it’s not gonna work”
again, i say OH RLY?!?!?!?
Cuz we’re only, you know, EIGHT RUNS DOWN

Mo: True

Me: Len: “let’s see if jake can run a 10 run homer”
now THATS funny

Mo: “keep swingin until the umpire tells you its the last out”
thanks len
thanks

Me: “all the sudden this game gets pretty interesting”
what?
len
what
what?
REALLY??
an INJURY makes this interesting??
not the fact that we gave up ELEVEN RUNS
or that someone hit for the cycle

Mo: cause the Cubs only need another 7 runs now

Me: not interesting in that our newest pitcher got hurt?… or that someone had their MLB debut and blew chunks all over it and had to have A RAM translate larry rothschild’s advice to him b/c he doesn’t speak english well enough?

Mo: yeah, who was that guy?
i turned it on in the 2nd and was like who is that, never heard of him

Me: absolutely NO ONE.

Mo: i was like – jeff stevens got called up, but… that is not jeff stevens

Me: No. No it certainly was not.
Yeah!!! DROPPED BALL. Stoopid Rockies’ LF-er.

Mo: that looks like me playing OF

Me: that looks like like a milton bradley play
ha. jinx.
awwwww the closer’s getting taken out. im glad that your SEVEN RUN LEAD isn’t enough.

Mo: it all comes down to…

Me: YES LAST GREAT HOPE
KOYIE HILL

Mo: …koyie??? really??
hahahahaah

Me: JUST WHO I WANT AT THE PLATE

Mo: fukudome is still on the bench

dont hit him though
he makes contact

Me: no, no why would they do that?
FUCK.
SHIT.

Mo: STOOPID CUBS. Sigh.
k im going to bed

Me: im gonna go throw things at the tv now

Mo: like your burning flaming computer?
actually, can you get video of that – id like to see it…

Me: Ugh, it’s worse now.  It goes black if you unplug it at all, and it stalls when you type so i make lots of typing errors ‘cuz i can’t see the words
Whatever. go slep.

Mo: hahaha. im gonna slep the shit of my bed

See, Cubs?  See what your awfulness brings about?!  STOP THAT. Oh, you’re about the play the Phillies, you say?  Siiiiigh.

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Things that are good to know during 100*F weather

It’s usually pretty good for your company to tell you that the air conditioning (or really, the cool air function in general) doesn’t work in the car in which they send you to the bank. Oh, and the back window don’t go down, either.  In weather close to 100*F heat index.

Worst 20 minutes of my life?

Probably not, but holy shit, motherfucker.

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