Thoroughly Disgusted

There are the people who wank off on airplanes. There are the people who touch everything they can get their hands on. There are people who pick their noses while on the bus in the morning. There are people whose mothers never taught them what proper behavior is while in the public eye, and these people? The ones I just mentioned? These people are those people, with those mothers, who are now either mortified that their son or daughter was noticed and pointed out as being one of those gross people. Or, they are those mothers, who are also picking their noses in public. It's hard to tell.

But I am here to tell you, Internet, that I have witnessed the weirdest and most disgusting personal habit ever. In public. And I am so disgusted that I feel compelled to share this with someone, anyone - even if I also feel compelled to vomit while I type this.

I just sat through an hour long class, and the guy in front of me was clicking his ballpoint pen. Click. Click-click. Click. Click-click. Over, and over, and over. Naturally, being as high-strung as I am, I went from zero to annoyed after the second click. I shifted around to see what was with all the clicking when I saw him using the tip of his ballpoint pen to scratch the top of his head, then click it open to clean it off (apparently he has some sort of head debris?) and then do it again...and again. For the entire hour.

I am speechless with disgust.

If this is something he learned from his mother, somebody better be calling Social Services pronto.

What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen anyone do in public?

Karmic ass-kicking

I have never been dumped. Also, I have never dumped anyone. For a 21 year old, this is strange, no?

Then why, you might ask, are you not in a major relationship? The above information leads us to believe that either A. you've never dated anyone (not true) or B. you must have only dated one person and you are still together (also, not true) but now we find out that C. that's not true ? The math doesn't add up!

Don't feel bad, I'm bad at math too! However, I am very good at ending relationships without actually ever officially dumping anyone. Listen carefully and you, too, can learn my very effective technique for only $9.95 plus shipping and handling. It's called The Phase Out.

Here I will provide you with a scenario to illustrate the necessity of TPO:

Once upon a time, a girl agreed to go on a date with a guy. Said guy was kind of cute, nice, and it seemed like they had a lot in common. Said girl didn't want to turn down a potentially promising date, so off they went.

After a few dates, said guy was becoming less cute and more annoying, and the whole thing was going nowhere. So, said girl decided to call the whole thing off.

Unfortunately, it is not that easy, because in a circumstance like this, said girl is usually quite a catch (if I do say so myself) and said guy is usually ___ (fill in the blank here) and that just doesn't do it for said girl. Sadly, said guy doesn't know this, and he continues to try to woo said girl, only making things more awkward and less promising every time he calls.

Enter TPO!

Said girl slowly starts screening her calls, only answering every other time said guy phones. Said girl also becomes very busy, yet apologetic, that she can't spend so much time with said guy. Soon, she no longer answers his calls at all, and only calls him back when she knows he won't answer. After a few days (or weeks, depending upon said guy's level of persistence or stupidity) said guy has gotten the hint, and said girl has an unbroken streak of un-breakups to her name and she can quit worrying about said guy and move on.

Enter the part when I'm regretting ever employing this!

I think I'm getting phased out. I may be overreacting, but I generally have a good sense for these things, and I'm pretty sure I'm right. Unfortunately. Because I really like this one. He's kind of cute, nice, and we have a lot in common. But he hasn't called me lately, I've been leaving a fair amount of messages, and he called me back today when he knew I was in class...

I guess I knew that one day, karma would repay me for my dating deceptions. I just didn't expect it to happen now. It's so unfair!

For someone that's done her fair share of POs, I'm still a little POed.

Clear, so clear

In class today:

"Don't forget, your papers are due on Tuesday the 26th."

"What sort of criteria will you be using to grade our papers?"

"Very specific criteria."

"Are you going to tell us what it is?"

"Yes."

"Will you be telling us soon?"

"No."

TMI

There are certain reasons to go to class. To ask questions of your professor, to engage in discourse with other students, to learn more about the topic at hand. Today, I went to Political Theory to learn more about Machiavelli. I did NOT go to class to hear about a brown recluse bite, asthma, strange cases of neck claustrophobia, a boyfriend's bed sheets, living in her mother's employer's house, constant NPR listening, and ADD. Lucky for me, I heard all about them anyway! And why? Because some people have a little disease called TMI.

You know the people. You do. If only they gave off some sort of weird vibration, a strange sort of shimmery light that would delineate them from normal humans. Unfortunately, you only find out that they are carriers of the disease AFTER they tell you about that one time when they just, like, couldn't get the poop all the way out!

I don't know about you, but I just, like, couldn't care less about that. Or about the spider bite, or even, believe it or not, the neck thing. I don't care. I am the opposite of a gossip - if you have information that does not pertain to me, please keep it to yourself, because it's just bad manners not to, and if there's anything I hate more than bad manners it's getting sick, and I'm afraid it might be contagious. It's just not socially acceptable to reveal so much to perfect strangers, especially not in a classroom when people are trapped and forced to sit next to you. Maybe on a bus when you're drunk, but even then, I would feign a heart attack rather than risk catching the TMI disease.

If only there was a cure. The best defense mechanism I have is complete ignorance. I always feel that, if I pretend not to notice the TMI carrier, don't breathe, and don't make eye contact, maybe I can avoid it. But it's not just me, because TMI carriers are indiscriminate and they will overshare to anyone. Maybe one day there will be an uprising in class and she'll be killed. Sadly, sometimes things like that have to happen, for the good of the group.

How very Machiavellian.

The waters, they are ripe for writing

I've heard rumors all through college about the worst thing that could happen on the first day of school. I don't mean worst thing like falling down the stairs (it's happened to me, you get through it) or getting lost (also happened to me). I mean worst thing like, finding out that your professor talks too fast or grades too hard - anything that basically signals to you that your GPA is going to tank because of a particular class. I've never experienced this, as my GPA will attest, so I thought that everyone was just really whiny because they decided to pick boring, hard majors and were now regretting it. My favorite worst first day excuse is the ever-popular "my professor doesn't speak English." I always thought, mmm-hmm, yes, CSU would definitely hire a professor who barely speaks English, yeah right.

Actually, it's true. They totally do that. And now, I'm screwed.

Okay, not exactly screwed, I exaggerate (who me? Never!) but only a little. My Comparitive Politics professor is from Turkey, but lived in Finland for awhile too, and now teaches in the states. She has the wonkiest accent I've ever heard, and it cracks me up, so much so that I listen to how she says words, not the actual words that she says, which then explains why all I've learned so far is that Britain is, in fact, a democracy, despite their insistence on keeping royals with bad hats.

My professor really loves direct object articles ('a' or 'the' for the grammatically ungeeky) and she is mad about plurals, which is always fun. She also ocassionally spells like she pronounces things, which makes for an interesting activity as well. Bored by the lecture? That's OK, just use the spare time to decipher the power point from Turkish accented English, into regular English. On the first day of school, she told us that she frequently checks her e-mails and that we shouldn't bring in foods or drinks, but if we wanted to bring in the water bottles to drink the waters, that would be OK.

I'm pretty excited to go to class tomorrow actually, because when we last left off, we were talking about the Quinn of England, and her relationship with the Margaret Thatchers.

Finally returning phone calls

It's gotten a little ridiculous.

At first, I thought I would just take a break from the blog for awhile, just for the summer. But now, I'm a month into school, with a brand new computer (Dell can no longer be my scapegoat) and it's just like those guys I date and never call back, so I'm here to apologize.

To whom? Maybe nobody. My considerable absence has resulted in less than a public outcry, more a general wonderment (didn't you used to have a blog?) and now I'm sure all readership has gone down the toilet, not that it matters.

Regardless, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Maybe we could have dinner sometime?