I have nothing news-worthy to blog about this week… okay, I never really have anything that news-worthy to blog about any week, but I still manage to yammer for a decade. I’m serious this week. It might be more exciting to watch hot tar run down a driveway. Let’s see… Saturdee I bought myself some new socks and a toothbrush… it was blue… the toothbrush, not the socks. Aside from that… I worked, read 8 bajillion pages in textbooks, drooled out both sides of my mouth, and pulled at least 12 hairs out whilst trying to write Italian dialogue. My professor told me to quit using Google Translate on my homework… uh, I didn’t… but apparently that’s how talentedly bad I am at it. It doesn’t work to translate directly she says… and that is why I won’t be an Italian Prime Minister… well, that and every other reason you can think of.
On Saturdee, there was the deer who decided to scare the bejeebers out of me by eating shrubbery 2 feet from my noggin…
I heard this rustling/scratching noise whilst reading one of the aforementioned textbooks and thought it was LucyFur scraping up the furniture again, so I turned into Tyrannical Trudy and began yelling at her to stop. Turns out she wasn’t in the room, but this dudette wanted to join me for tea and crumpetts (great, Bambi… you bring the tea and crumpetts).
Speaking of LucyFur, she’s adopted some more annoying habits of late… aside from the waking Whitney up 12 times a night and scratching at the furniture in her cabin fever-induced state. There’s usually construction going on on the back canal bank these days (have I mentioned how much I love the changes they are making!? Because… NOT!) She hates the rumbling big truck noises and feels the need to warn the villagers every time there are loud truck rumblings and noises… and to do that she just makes more noise on top of the noise by meowing at the top of her lungs for an hour until it stops. She’s like Lassie, except no one has been saved from the well with her efforts. She’s also inherited my OCD qualities by having to knead around the entire edges of whatever she wants to lie down on… case in point…
Did you fall asleep? I told you! That was only half of it, she did knead around the entire other side before I pressed record. You are welcome! Become an OCD baker, LucyFur… bring in some income!
Have a great week friends… guess what… It’s February next Monday! HALLELUJAH!
Baby BoBear pictures of the week:
He says… Give me a cookie!!
I’m seriously sitting her for the last 10 minutes trying to think of something to write for my weekly nonsensical blog post rambling of insanity. Truth is… I did nothing this past week that is even remotely blog worthy, not that I ever do anything that is remotely blog-worthy and I still manage to vomit all over this website for 2-1/2 hours every Monday. But this past week was even more boringer (page 3423, Whitster’s Dictionary… look it up). The only noteworthy accomplishment was that after having my molar removed on my birthday last Thursday and developing dry socket and a wicked infection with sharp shooting pains and after going to the dentist 3 times this past week to have them pack a clove gauze majig up into my tooth hole and then finally getting antibiotics, I finally have some shooting head pain relief. PRAISE ALL THAT BE HOLY, HALLELUJAH!
To let you in on the other boring parts of my week, which included my regular working and schooling, tonight I just spent an hour transfixed to possibly the stupidest show in the history of stupid shows: Outrageous Giant Foods on The Food Network. There’s 45 minutes I’ll never get back. People competing to grow the biggest 1600-pound produce, making a gigantasmic pumpkin pie with 3500 eggs, and boating down a river in a hollowed out gourd. There was a guy in England who grew a 20-pound onion and a dude in Canada who grew a 12-foot long gourd. Oh my stars and garters, where’s a plastic spork so I can gouge my eyeballs out!? In my defense, I could eventually become eligible to compete to grow the biggest dirt clod with weeds in it and probably win handily, so it was more research-ucational than anything.
Due to my large painful headspace, I did not do well with the exercising this week. Back on it starting Monday… now that it’s going to be dark at 4:00 each day, I feel like it’s a perfect opportunity to wear my sandwich board around town picketing Daylight Savings Time!
I have a bone to pick with every last author of every last school text book… every last one of y’all. Listen up… YOU SUCK! Oh man… that took a load off! I’m good for the next 33 years… at least! It’s them kinds of descriptive sentences that make this country dumber than China! I have always hated text books. Firstly, they’re hecka boring. Secondly, they’re snoringly boring… and thirdly, did I mention the part about the boringness? I’ve always said it was in the way they were written… matter of factly, listing fact upon fact upon fact. I don’t learn that way. I need entertainment and a bottle of
vodka apple juice. No, I don’t need someone to pop out from the book and do a soft shoe tap dancing routine whilst singing about Henry the VIII’s 5 bajillion wives, but livening things up couldn’t hurt any. Whilst you’re telling me about good ole Henry, tangent some… go off into that story about your great Aunt Gertrude and her hemorrhoid flare or that captivating story about how you glued your dentures to the table. Something! Anything! Tell a few jokes about how Christopher Columbus crapped a balloon filled with marijuana and that’s how it was invented. I don’t really care if it’s not true… that there stuff is funnee… said the 15-year-old immature redneck.
Because I’ve always found the text book boring, I just never read them… all the way through grade school, middle school, junior high, and high school. I didn’t. I’d skim through the required chapter and then cross my fingers that the tests were multiple choice and that I’d somehow soak up the rays of psychic Sylvia Browne’s psychoing powers to get an A. And it usually worked! I had awesome grades all throughout schooling. But then I got to college and not reading text books wasn’t gonna fly… and it reflected in my grades. I flunked out of this horrid weather class I signed up for… FLUNKED… and that was the first F in my entire schooling career.
This time I’m determined to read every single last page of every single text book I purchase. If I’m going to pay the purchase price of Antarctica to buy those blasted fire starters, I’m going to get my money’s worth. Just one problem… text book authors haven’t improved from 10 years ago. Not one bit. I struggle to stay awake whilst reading my finance book. Not that I don’t want to learn about all the nice financial phrases and stuff, but seriously… something about Aunt Gertrude’s hemorrhoid flare would be fantastic right about now.
Question of the Day: Text Books… Boring or Interesting? Any favorite text books?