I'm a little slow today. I just switched to Sanka. So...have a heart?

Friday, June 10, 2005

Grade my essay, bitches.

Okay. So here's a Bar-Bri complaint:

Bar-Bri Florida, sure, it's annoying that your site is always down, and that many of your review questions are simply too easy with answers that are simply too obvious...or on the flip side, simply too hard, with nuances I'll never. ever. learn. And yes, some of your professors are boring, and make us write too much on our handouts, and yes, my thumb hurts from writing when I walk out of there and I'm annoyed at you, and your announcements, and your I.D. badges and your heavy, heavy books with extraneous explanations that I don't really care about in the Multistate books.

But here's my real beef with you:

When we have to turn in essays to you for grading, howzabout you don't make it such a stringent deadline, heh? I paid you a lot of money for this course, and you have to understand that NOT EVERYBODY is EXACTLY on your schedule. Life happens, interviews happen, and sometimes we can't always learn trusts, and then write an essay on it on the VERY DAY you want us to. So here's my request:

Cut us some fucking slack. "ESSAYS MUST BE RECEIVED BY JUNE FIFTEENTH OR THEY WILL NOT BE GRADED!" (I learned all about conditional acceptance and I think that's what that is...) Hey, numbnuts, I got shit to do. I'm not cutting into my already mere 6 hours of sleep per night to crank out an essay on a topic I know NOTHING about, so why don't you cut me some goddamn slack and make it "postmarked" by June 15th, heh? Or it will not be graded. Not be graded my ass! How much did I pay you? For a set of books? To bore me to tears?! Christ. Two-bloody-thousand dollars, and you won't grade my essay if I don't get in to the booming metropolis that is Tallahassee, Florida?! Hell, I don't even think they have auto-m0-biles up there in Tallahassee, and it's gonna take quite a while for Postmaster Quelch to load up that donkey cart and walk the mail to the Bar-Bri office.

So howzabout this: I'll do the essay whenever I damn-well feel like, and you'll grade it. How does that sound? I'll have it postmarked by the fifteenth, but this whole "DO IT FIVE DAYS BEFORE IT'S DUE" thing...it sort of chaps my ass.

That is all.

Superbee's been super busy. So he steals.

Howdy 'kateers! I know, I know. I haven't been around. I'm a "busy bee." Har-har-har, shut up. Anyway, my friend Dan has his own blog. I know. Verrrry fancy. He wrote this blog, and I thought it was really, really funny. So I'm stealing his latest blog entry and pasting it here, because he had me laughing out loud.

About Dan: He is cynical, dry, hilarious and an excellent writer. He enjoys hot pockets, It's Pasta Anytime!, obsessing over things, and "situations," one of which we have, basically every day. Here is his blog link for those of you interested - be warned, he's mean to people. You think I'm bad? I'm a fuckin' saint compared to him. But he's funny, and so we read religiously.


"11:17:13 AM EDT
Feeling Chillin'
What's it to you?

So this morning, I entered the elevator, armed with my $8.95 coupon, to make the monthly 4-block trek to Supercuts. Of course, the elevator stopped on the floor below me, and enter a middle-aged man. He smiled at me, as if I cared about the fact he was alive. I smirked back. He then looked at me and said, "It looks like you're heading to the beach." If only he knew. I politely replied, "No, not today," praying that would be the end of this awkwardly annoying conversation. It wasn't. He then proceeded with, "You don't work, or go to school?" Excuse me? How dare you. First of all, you don't know me. For all you know, I'm one of the 25,000 General Motors employees just laid off. Or my shift at Subway doesn't start until 4. Or I'm the bronzed mime outside of Water Tower, but it's just too hot today. Or I flunked out of Northwestern and I'm using my trust fund to live here. In any event, let me tell you one thing: whether I work, or go to school, or don't do any of the above, is of no consequence to you. Anyway, I replied, "I'm studying for the bar exam." He then stated, "so you want to be a lawyer?" No, asshole. I take the 156 to Kent every morning so I can listen to a short, fat, bald man rattle off dirty jokes and teach me nothing because I want to be a fucking astronaut. Then I got the quintessential question of, "What type of law do you want to practice?" I told him I didn't know, and he suggested that I practice entertainment law so I can "hang with celebrities." This guy really doesn't get it, does he? He's probably one of the typical Americans who thinks that every case goes to trial, and every trial gets a jury, and every lawyer is like Johnny Cochran or Mark Geragos. Moron. I told him I didn't want to do entertainment law, and I certainly didn't want to move to California. Seemingly offended, he asked where I was from, and I said Philly. He shot back, "I went to Philadelphia once and it was closed. Remember the old W.C. Fields joke?" hahahahahahahahahahahaha NOT FUNNY. Like I haven't heard that one before. Turns out he is from New York. Typical. The only people I have ever met in the world who don't like Philly are New Yorkers. Probably because Philly is just as good, but we're not assholes like you. Luckily this elevatorconversation ended briskly, and before I knew it, a mute Russian woman was cutting my hair.

By the way, what the hell is up with this weather? It's only June 8, and every day is what we used to call back in Philly the Three H's: Hazy, hot, and humid. The only difference is that in Philly, when it stormed in the afternoon, the next day was cooler. Here, when it storms in the afternoon, the next day is hotter, as if cold fronts don't exist in the midwest. If this is what the summer is going to be like, I am really dreading August.

Okay, time to study now."

Copyright, Dan R. 2005.