I'm the number six yahoo search for "sucks to your assmar." Fucking awesome. For those of you out of the know, that's a phrase my freshman class was obsessed with -- it's how we dealt with reading "Lord of the Flies."
Liz didn't want to navigate public transit yesterday so she hung out at our place with the dog until I got off from school. (Totally bombed my math test -- I was almost in tears by the end of it and then I was like, it sucks to care. More on that in a mo.) The plan was, we would BART it together (she had to get back to Oakland to have a serious talk with her sister re: her creepy boyfriend) but by the time I got home I was so pooped that all I could do was make a bagel and collapse on the floor. Aaron called to say he was getting off work early so we picked him up in the car and decided to hit up In-n-Out before we said bye-bye. For some reason, the whole ordeal took about three hours and we didn't make it to Oakland (with detours to Emeryville and Berkeley--oops) until midnight. The gods blessed us with a parking space but for some reason I couldn't get into it so I screamed, "YOU DO IT!" to Aaron and took the dog to the building with me. I heard Aaron getting pissed off about not being able to park the car either (tires squealing, remants of "GODDAMMIT MOTHERFUCKER FUCKING MCFUCK" wafting through the air) and then I decided I was sad so when he got to the building I took my keys from him and told him I forgot something. I ended up taking a little nap in the back of my little car until Aaron came back and yelled at me because he'd been worried. Why do people yell when they're worried? Why aren't they so relieved that their loved one is alright that they can talk in a soothing tone? I hate that.
I'll say things to Aaron, like, "I'm having a sad day," and he knows it means more than being unable to turn my frown upside down. It means that there was some sort of catalyst -- be it getting fired or failing a test or some snotty comment from a stranger -- that sent me in a complete downward spiral in which all I can do is lay in bed and hope for nightmare-less sleep. He knows when to tickle me and when to tell me something funny. He knows I'm only ticklish in the middle of my belly, not the sides, and that saying "What's wrong, Ball o' Morgan" will get me to smile no matter what.
And I know that when he's upset I can buy him the Star Wars Trilogy and everything's grand again. We're going to be great parents.
So, the math test. I was doing ok until the final question -- the Evil Word Problem. It was vaguely similar to other word problems I had conquered, except we were given two different elements than we were used to. Word problems make my brain shut off, so I took a break, checked the other answers, and tackled it again. I spent a half an hour trying every possible combination, swallowed a few sobs, wrote, "If there is a logical answer to this question, I do not know what it is," in the answer column and turned in the goddamn test. I included my scratch paper which was completely full on both sides of diagrams and equations and chicken scratch because he said something about giving some credit for trying. And you know what? So what if I don't get math. I know the basics. The only time I've used anything even remotely close to what we're studying is when I had to find out how much it would cost to ship 52 reams of paper without knowing the weight or volume of anything. And I did it, becaus
I love our FedEx guy. He always waves to me when he comes in for the shipment. I also love our new copy shop. After dealing with the bitches at Kinko's for seven months, I found this new place that was hidden away. They never have anything to do so they're always thrilled when we come in and they can complete our projects an hour ahead of time and a day before Kinko's would even get started. Take that, evil copy corp!
Oh yeah. Stickin it to The Man.
This is so unbelievably entertaining I can't believe it's free.
one year ago today: nothing.
two years ago today: "so i have this shoebox." and "so at least i smiled once tonight."
three years ago today: "Messing with people online isn't nearly as satisfying as in real life, but it passes the time on a Thursday night."