But don’t worry, I’m not on suicide (homicide) watch yet.
*****BORING DETAILS ALERT*****
I used to work on biological networks, but I’m not a biologist, so I wanted to stab my eyes out every day. I’ve always wanted to work on poverty problems, but as I’ve noted before, that’s a pretty crazy thing to try and write a Computer Science dissertation on.
I pointed all of this out during fart meeting, and mister silver-tongued gypsy man was all, “Boo-yah! I’ll let you work on social networks and you can fix poverty like that. And terrorism.”
Btw, by social networks I mean this kind:
and not this kind:
Then he shoved a research paper in my face about “Social Network Capital, Economic Mobility and Poverty Traps” in developing countries, and I figured he won again so I pretty much got up and left. Cause that sounds pretty cool, right guys? Guys?
You may now begin placing bets amongst yourselves about when this post will make the rounds again. By my watch, should be about same time next year. I guess no one’s gonna pay me to pet kittens and puppies all day, so I may as well try this.
BONUS MATERIAL — and SPEAKING of social networks — and breastfeeding — Nakkins is one of the Greater Digital Artists of our time!
Filed under: Jesus Christ, The Lord, don't, mental, oh fuck, scotch, teaching, what a dick, working
Dudes. You know how I like to drop out of the PhD program every year? WELL, I QUIT AGAIN TODAY (via an epic-ass email sent at 3pm.)
My boss’s response: ”I understand your frustration and anxiety. I used to feel that way, too. Let’s meet tomorrow and I’ll give you some tips/lessons I’ve learned on how to deal with stress.”
Jigga WHAAAAt??
He clearly is in denial or only read 1/8th of my email. I picture him looking at it with one eye closed, pointer fingers in his ears, and screaming “LA LA LA LA LA! I CAN’T HEEEAR YOOOOU!!!” Did I mention that the email was epic, and listed all of the reasons why I want to quit, as in QUIT, the program?
@L$H%@$#gw^. So now I get to have “Awkward Conversation of the Year” at 4:30pm tomorrow. At least my Friday presentation for work is now canceled (high-five, guys!)
Wish me luck. I have no idea if I’ll get snake-charmed into staying in the program that makes me hate my life and all living things. LE FUCKING SIGH.
The upper-middle class mothers are up in arms because:
a) the grossly inequitable distribution of world resources
b) Darfur
c) their beautiful (nope) pics of exposed breast with baby mouth attached were removed from facebook.
The answer is neither “a” nor “b”, but this is making NATIONAL NEWS. They are fucking *pissed*, even thought it does violate facebook TOS to display your areola. The pic above does not even display full-on breasticle, so it is actually acceptable (as the term applies to legal sensibilities, not my own, yikes). But IT IS NOT ENOUGH. ”I MUST SHOW THE FULL-ON ACTION.”
Breast-feeding is good for baby. I don’t know if being punched in the face with a pic like this of a friend on facebook is going to change anyone’s mind about the topic.
*Granted, I have complained (as I was reminded by Sir Robert) about “My BANGZ needing to get the shit out my FACE”, and other such nonsense, but I’m not sitting on my living room floor and petitioning to have my post-preggo boob shoved in someone’s face. Maybe I’m just angsty today. I have to give an hour-long-talk for work on a really hard topic this Friday, and I’m concerned because as of today, I DON’T GET IT. Not even a little bit. Hopefully I will be fired?
MAY I ASK WHAT WAS UP WITH MY BANGS.
I don’t miss the 90’s (yes I do.) They don’t make lipstick that dark anymore. Also, I look kind of fat.
Filed under: The Lord, dunnoes, embarrassing, he-celebs, old people, people I would sleep with
I have. 
Not pretty.
You GUYS. I started teaching a class at the community college today. The class is entitled: “How to Work the Computer Machine.” Mm-hm cereal.
For today’s lesson I identified the keyboard, mouse, and an output device known as the monitor. You may think I am joking; I am not.
My face hurts.
And Mr. Napkins was kind enough to replace Doris Day with the “modern” Doris Day: ME.
I came home the other day to find that a small Vietnamese lady had entered and posted this on my fridge:
That’s right. It says, “Ang, this is how your’s huose.” To be fair, my mom was raised in a willage in Vietnam where they did not teach the children English. That is not the point. I certainly couldn’t say that in Vietnamese. Also, I rent my house from her => she has a key. Imagine if your mom had a key to your place. Nothing good can come of that.
Anyway, she took the time to get the scissors, pen a message, and arrange it on my fridge. I wonder what I will be like at her age. At least she’s amusing herself?
My friend’s friend has taken us all to school. BURGER-ORDERING SCHOOL. Or FATGIRL SCHOOL.
Bravo. That is nasty.
Score is calculated as follows (begin with +10 for the holidays):
- Intoxication level of the speaker: x 3
- Mention of a medical condition: +1
- Unnecessary specificity: x 6
- Playing hand-squeezy w/new prayer-neighbor during moments of hilarity: -10
- Eyes remain closed: +5
- Eyes do not roll back up into head: +20
