Tag Archive: school


So, right now, I’m taking an online class.

My class is about organizational behavior.

My thought is that it would be an okay class if I was taking it in-seat.  There are plenty of things about this class that would allow for productive discussion and assignments that would help to reinforce the topics that are discussed in the textbook.  It would be no big deal if I was in a classroom setting and able to actively participate.

“Actively participate” in an online setting is such bullshit.  We have two discussion topics that we have to respond to and then we have to “interact” and shit with our peers throughout the week.  I hate everything about it.

Pretty much, my current practice is to post my original responses to the topics and then ignore the part about interacting with my peers.  I really just feel like they’re not real people. I have no connection to my classmates at all, and I have found that that is important to me.

I’ll never take another online class.

Oh, one other thing that is irritating to me about my online class is that we have a group project that is required of us.  I can understand the importance of being able to work in a group or a team, but I just feel like it defeats the purpose of an online class.  In fact, I feel absolutely terrible for what a horrible group member I have been in this class. In every other group I have ever been in, I honestly feel like I’ve been a major contributor, if not the one who drives the train.  This time, though, I can’t seem to be a good teammate.  I would hate myself if it wasn’t actually me. Well, actually I would hate me if I cared a little more about this class.

In other news, I saw Red Riding Hood this weekend. Don’t ever see it.

Easily one of the top five worst movies I have ever seen in my life. And I saw (and liked) Glitter.  I tend to enjoy terrible movies, and I hated this one.  I guess it’s one of those times when a bad movie happens to a good cast.

I should have known when I saw that Catherine Hardwicke directed it- she directed Twilight and that movie blew, too.

So, yeah. Welcome to my world. I hate everything.

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Dude.

I’m supremely hungover.

I slept until 4 pm today.

Actually, that is kind of a lie.

What really happened was I woke up at 8:30 this morning to pee.  I am fairly certain I was still drunk at this point, as I could not figure out how to execute the tasks of finding the light switch and turning on the bathroom light.  In all fairness, I was in a hotel (so my surroundings were less than familiar) and the light switches were on the wall outside of the bathroom.  I washed my hands in the bathtub (because I thought the sink was still full of ice and all of our liquor- it wasn’t.) and that’s when I found Seneca’s red thong hanging out on the ledge of the bathtub.

I remember thinking that was a little odd.

I crawled back into bed next to Seneca and went back to sleep until about 10 o’clock, when I heard Megan walking around our hotel room and starting to clean stuff up.  It was probably an hour later that we all actually woke up and pulled ourselves together enough to get in the car and go home.

When the girls dropped me off at home, I dropped my crap on my bed, grabbed a sweatshirt and headed back upstairs to plop myself down on the couch, where I had every intention of staying all day long.  I was too hungover to get up and grab a blanket so I used my hooded sweatshirt as a blanket and used a pillow on the couch to cover my feet.  I wished more than anything that I could just use the power of my mind to turn on the fireplace, but that didn’t really work out.  Instead, I watched The Office on DVD and froze my ass off.

I woke up around 2pm when I heard Grandma arrive.  I was drifting in and out of consciousness so I really have no idea what she was talking about, but it was too loud for my taste so I quickly turned the DVD player off, switched the tv to the channel that was playing some basketball, and went to crawl into my mom’s bed.

At about 3pm, I woke again.  Grandma had started vacuuming. I tell you, the woman cannot just sit and do nothing.  Even though my mom constantly tells Grandma not to use our vacuum (because she breaks them????), Grandma doesn’t listen and insists on vacuuming our house. I wanted to knife her, but not that badly because I didn’t expend any energy at all to ask her to stop.

It was about 4pm when I started feeling like I needed to stop procrastinating and do my homework. Only, it felt like death to not be horizontal.

I started my homework at about 7pm, and that shows.  I’m only slightly embarrassed to hand in my case study and I won’t be that mad when I don’t get 100%. I won’t be that mad because last night was fun enough to be worth less than 100% on the piece of shit case study I handed in this evening.

I am, however, a little disappointed in myself because, dude, I cannot drink like I used to.  Not like I could in college.  Growing up sucks.

There is no other day that I wish more than anything that I was still in college than on St. Patrick’s Day.

I mean, most days I wish I was still in college, and I think it’s retarded that we were all dying to graduate when we were already in the part of our lives that truly is the best part. Even more retarded is that I didn’t drag out my time in college longer than the four years I was already there.

I mean, where else is it completely acceptable to literally drink all day?  I don’t just mean day drinking, tailgate style.  I mean waking up and pounding a jello shot or two and head to work only to get out at noon and immediately start drinking to catch up to where everyone else is.

A household divided: pepsi vs coke. What’s your pref??

One very important concept I learned in college is playing catch-up. Don’t do it.  Poor. Life. Choice.

Luckily, I had really good friends who reminded me to slow the fuck down and pace myself. A good friend and roommate who looked out for me and made me pb&j sandwiches (on more occasions than one) so I would have consumed something other than caffeine and alcohol when we started drinking.

Lunch of champions/functioning alcoholics!

It’s not appropriate for me to spend the entire day wasted, take a nap at 6pm and wake up an hour later to continue consuming more alcohol than is recommended by the government.  It’s not appropriate to continually lose misplace my ID and debit card only to find it in a different pair of jeans because I had forgotten I had changed pants at the last minute (I would). It’s not appropriate to drunkenly sext frat boys. Nor is it appropriate to try to steal some poor man’s golden retriever (Erica! Okay, it was mostly me.).

Oh, Mandy…!

It’s not appropriate to disappear for extended periods of time with said frat boy under the guise of “washing my hands.” It didn’t matter that Erica knew I wasn’t washing my hands.  No one washes their hands that often, or for more than 20 seconds. Or for, like, 40 minutes at a time.

Whatever.  I never said I was a good liar.

None of that is appropriate.  Anymore.

Because I’m not in college. Anymore.

Because I’m old.

I hope everyone had a safe and very happy St. Patrick’s Day!

I spent mine lunching with a member of the tripod, shopping for new makeup, hitting up the library, doing homework and now I’m going to a Sugarland Concert!

Not too shabby! 🙂

I wrote a ten page paper today.

And by today I mean I did it all after 4pm.

I’m not even going to get into any discussion of daylight savings time because we all know I’ll only end up confused, upset and bewildered.

I only mention it now because it pertains to my day in the sense that when I woke up this morning, it was an hour later than it would have been had it been as things were just yesterday.  I hate that we lost an hour. It meant that when I awoke at 9:06 this morning, as my clock alerted me, it was 10:06 in actuality. It meant that I had wasted that hour without the perks of gaining an actual hour of sleep or spending that time on the couch watching two episodes of Say Yes to the Dress.

And let me tell you, I did spend time on the couch this morning watching Say Yes to the Dress! However, this was done as I sulked silently about “losing an hour.”

I spent the rest of my morning sitting in my own filth and baby-talking to the dog.  He eventually grew tired of this and decided to go sleep with his butt against the wall, as he usually does.

Evidenced here:

What's this about??

And here:

he's so weird

After I tired of watching Say Yes to the Dress, I decided I would finish season one of The Sopranos.

I feel so badass when I watch that show.  Mob life fascinates me. Actually, violence and crime in general tend to fascinate me. I live such a sheltered life that I pretty much just read about it on Wikipedia or live vicariously through TV shows and movies.

It was just before 2 o’clock when I decided to shower.  Once I was clean, I definitely felt more awake but I still lacked the motivation required to write my stupid case study for class.  So, instead, I watched an entire disk of season six of Entourage (each disk contains four episodes, which are, like, thirty minutes in length).

Yeah. I’m that lazy.

It was after I had wasted almost an entire day that I decided I would begin the research I needed to do in order to write my case study. I hate that part, actually, because it takes such a long time. And it requires so much reading until you find a source that you can manipulate enough to support your point.  If I’m being honest, I started out with the intent of only using the bare minimum of three external sources besides our textbook. But the 95% I got on last week’s case study really got my goat, and I knew I really needed to exceed the minimum requirements.

Yeah. I’m that much of a perfectionist.

95% irritated me.

Who am I?

Anyway, my point is, I wrote a ten page research paper inside of five hours.  I also feel pretty good about this week’s case study.

Basically, like Charlie Sheen, I’m gonna put this day in the Win column.

instead of writing a proper post, i did the following:

  • studied all day for my finance final exam
  • bombed my finance final exam
  • came home
  • emptied the dishwasher
  • loaded the dishwasher
  • cleaned out the fridge
  • fed the dog his glucosamine
  • saw the new britney spears video for “hold it against me”
  • half-watched jersey shore
  • talked to seneca
  • decided to watch national treasure before i go to bed (even though i hate nicholas cage)

i was all cosy in my bed when i realized it was nearly midnight and I hadn’t posted. ugh.

i’m going to bed. i don’t feel much like writing/sharing. i’m sorry. my exam kinda bummed me out. 😦

Every weekend Tam takes Chief to Petsmart.

And every weekend I hear about how much fun Chief has at Petsmart, and how everyone who sees him just falls in love with him, and how Chief makes all kinds of puppy friends. Basically everyone has a good fucking time and I miss out.

So you can bet your bottom dollar that when I saw that I had this past Saturday off from work, I was like GUESS WHAT FUCKERS! WE’RE GOING TO PETSMART!

But we didn’t get to go to Petsmart until after I went to my group meeting for my Finance class. BUT OH WAIT. While my group meeting had been set for 10:30am at the library at school, guess who was the only one there at 10:30am at the library at school. THIS GIRL. The first dude showed up at like 11:15am, the next one strolled in at 11:40am, and the last one finally came at, like, noon. WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT PART OF 10:30AM DID THEY NOT UNDERSTAND?! AND LET IT JUST BE KNOWN: I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO SET THE TIME FOR THE MEETING! MR. 11:40 DID!

JFEHE8HFEUWDPIHFUDISAFKJDSLHAI UGHHHHHHHH!!!

Anyway, that is neither here nor there.

I just counted to ten so we could calmly and rationally move on with the Petsmart story. Because I know you’re dying to know what happened.

When we pulled in the parking lot, I was still coming down from the trauma I had experienced when Tam sneak-attacked me by taking us through the carwash. Chief was cool as a cucumber through the whole ordeal but, as always, I was a basketcase. Despite the trauma, I can’t even tell you how excited I was. It was all, yes! I finally get to see Chiefy in his puppy play place!

Puppies!!

We were not inside for three minutes before he and Tam made a bee-line for the puppies to be adopted. There were two of the cutest twinsies I had ever seen! They were lab/Australian shepherd puppies and they were 12 weeks old and precious.  Chiefy knew them from his visit last week and they sniffed each other and wiggled through the cage that separated them.

Chiefy was very, very busy and, after saying hello to his puppy mates, he decided it was time to take a look at some toys and maybe pick out a bone or two.  We sniffed out the bones but they didn’t have the kind Tam likes to buy for him so then we went to investigate the section where they had those little booties they have for pets so their feet don’t get cold in the winter. Chief tried on one but it didn’t go so well. That was when we heard all kinds of commotion coming from the twin pups.

When we made our way back towards the puppies, I saw that one was being held and one was still stuck in the cage. I immediately knew what was happening. A husband and wife duo, along with their nine year old son, was adopting only one of these precious puppies.

ONLY ONE!!

The puppy in the cage was wailing and crying. The little boy knew that this puppy was facing some hard times, and he crawled in the cage to try to comfort him. Before I knew it, giant crocodile tears were cascading from my eyes and I couldn’t even pretend something was wrong with my contacts.  I quickly got Tam’s attention and told her we were either taking that extra puppy home or we needed to get the fuck out before I A) ripped that puppy from that woman’s arms and put it back in the cage with its sibling, or B) screamed at her and told her it was cruel of her to only be bringing one of them home.

We got the fuck out.

I was in the middle of a full-blown meltdown by the time we got in the car. I couldn’t stop crying even though I was embarrassed and desperately wanted to not be sobbing over the fact that a puppy didn’t get adopted that day. In fact, I cried the whole twenty minutes it took to get home.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Tam said, “you can’t come to Petsmart anymore.”

I think that’s probably for the best.

Two weeks ago, I asked someone to show me how to use my financial calculator.

I bought (and when I say “I,” I mean my mom bought me) said financial calculator four years ago. For my accounting class. Which I bombed.

Maybe if I would have known how to use my calculator I wouldn’t have sucked so hard at Accounting 201 at Michigan State. Or, maybe if I went to class when I wasn’t hungover and counting down the minutes until I got to leave I would have done marginally well. Or, maybe if I wouldn’t have taken those two pulls (I have a very low tolerance for alcohol, read: I’m what one would call a “lightweight”) from a bottle of Bacardi before the final I would have passed. There were probably many factors contributing to my lack of success.

Anyway, I finally know how to use a few of the functions on this financial calculator. Good news, considering I’m taking a finance class right now.

This boy (man?) who taught me how to use my calculator was someone who has been in at least two of my other classes but to whom I have never spoken. Tonight, we conversed even more. And not about how to use my calculator.

We talked about Jersey Shore.

It just brings people together.

I kind of love that about that show. It’s appalling and terrible for society. Every time I watch it, I always just wonder, is this real life?! And it never ceases to amaze me that those people are real. Despite knowing it adds no real value to society and probably makes me dumber when I watch it, I can’t stop. I am in it. It’s like I know better but keep making poor life choices. I’m like those idiot drug addicts on Intervention who keep doing dumb shit that is bad for them. The show cracks my shit up. I laugh out loud every single time I see an episode.

It sucked me in and won’t let me go!

Another thing that sucked me in? Pretty Little Liars on ABC Family.

What the fuck is that show? Seriously.

I read the first four books and then bailed because I decided I’m not a slutty 14-year-old, and the show had already started and I figured that was good enough. But then I stopped watching the show because I was always doing something else when it was on and it was just too much work to have to keep up online.

Here’s the thing though, I watched the season premiere this January and decided I would commit myself to it. Idiot. Because now I’m still doing something else when it comes on and that means I have to catch up online, which is exactly what happened last time! So today, I thought to myself, Self, it’s okay to not catch up on Pretty Little Liars. It’s okay to bail again. Just give it up. Let it go. It’s okay.

I felt good about this decision.

Until right now, when I saw a preview for next week’s Pretty Little Liars. It made me wanna watch it real bad. So I guess that’s that. I’m gonna make that effort to watch it.

Gosh, my life is so rough.

Ps. Betcha didn’t see Pretty Little Liars coming from the talk about my financial calculator. Yeah, that’s just how my brain works.

I’m taking a breather from figuring out the net present value of stuff for my finance homework and listening to the State of the Union as background noise.

I want to just point out that something happened to Obama on my TV.

While Joe Biden looks all normal and pink, almost like a baby, and the speaker of the house (whoever that is- I’m a terrible, uninformed citizen. And it certainly doesn’t help that I’ve been living in a hole in the ground, watching only Veronica Mars on DVD) looks nicely tanned and has a good, healthy glow about him, President Obama looks… jaundice.

First, I thought he looked yellow, like an Oompa Loompa, because I was watching Fox. (I had been watching a Glee rerun, “Furt,” to be specific.) So I switched to CNN. Still really yellow.

The weird thing is his hands look like a normal skin color, his normal skin color. So I know that it’s something about his face.

My guess is that The Man is trying to make him more white.

Obviously, they’re not doing a very good job.

Seriously, the jig is up.

Anyway, I enjoy listening to Obama talk. I’m not really sure I could tell you what he talked about in this State of the Union, but his enunciation is like a dream. The inflection he uses when he speaks is like a song. I’d like his speech pattern on Facebook if I could. I’d like it like Lionel Richie, all night long.

On a somewhat related note, Seneca and I had a brief discussion of stupid rules within the English language. She mentioned that the “I” before “E” except after “C” rule is stupid and false.

I told her, “I think the I before E thing is bull.”

Seneca basically agreed, “It’s an attempt to make English less ridiculous, and it fails.”

So then, because I’m succinct and can think of more than one thing at a time, I essentially ended our conversation with the following awesomeness: “English just… sucks, much like America, where all of these rules exist but there are always a bunch of loopholes.”

See why it’s related??? President Obama, State of the Union, America…?

Genius.

One of my childhood memories includes our endless roadtrips to Florida for family vacations. At least once a year for a long time, we would drive down to Florida. This was before there were DVD players built into vehicles.

Mostly, I remember spending my time coloring in the backseat and ending up with some pretty jank coloring pages. I also remember singing along to Disney movie soundtracks at the top of my lungs. There were also some very long naps.

The other thing I remember is listening to Charlotte’s Web as a book on tape.

Dude. Why on earth did I ever stop listening to books on tape?!

All you have to do is sit there and listen to someone read to you.

It’s not even like that lame reading aloud we had to do in elementary school, you know, when you had to follow along. Or when you sounded like you had a stutter because reading out loud in front of people is hard. Or when you had to play that game where someone would be reading and then, like a dick, that someone would shout “popcorn!” and call your name and you were supposed to start reading but because you were busy picking at the chipped nail polish on your fingers or worried about the hole in the crotch of your leggings (because that’s all I wore in third grade, apparently! Thanks a whooooole lot, Mom!) you hadn’t been following along so you looked like an asshole.

What? I’m not bitter.

That is the best idea ever. Books on tape, that is. Not that shitty “popcorn” reading game.

I feel really good about this audiobook idea.

That’s why, when Harry Potter 7 came out and I hadn’t had time to read the book again before seeing the movie, I decided, OH EM GEE, I can totally just listen to it on CD!

Luckily, my mother is addicted to her ipod and happens to be a huuuuge fan of audiobooks. I never thought I’d be happy about that fact, but I think she might be on to something.

I listened to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on CD. First thing in the morning, as I was getting ready for work in the morning, I’d fire up whatever disk I was on and let Jim Dale’s voice fill my ears of Harry’s last quest for goodness to conquer evil.

Once I finished Harry Potter, I perused my library’s choices of audiobooks.  I decided upon Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult. I seriously love her books. I never know what is going to happen. The ending is always a surprise, and that’s really awesome for books. I highly recommend pretty much anything by her. I read The Pact by her earlier this fall and that book was also excellent!

Finally, today, I started Goodnight Nobody by Jennifer Weiner. I enjoy her books as well. It may seem silly, but I actually was carrying the paperback version of this book around in my purse for probably a month. I hadn’t gotten past the first chapter. With the audiobook, I can listen while I get ready in the morning, I can take the book with me in the car on the way to work or when I’m just running around town. SO CONVENIENT!!

I’m seriously obsessed.

I’m never reading a real book ever again.

(Writing that kind of broke my heart. I take it back. I heart real books!)

I remember in the fifth grade, we had to write a memory or something for our silly little yearbook. I remember that I was sitting in the middle pod of desks, next to the boy I had loved since the first day I saw him in third grade. He had broken his arm. Again. Now, I can’t remember what happened to make him break his arm this time. I can think of the time my friend broke her arm by falling off the monkey bars on the playground at recess in elementary school. And I can remember the time my other friend broke her arm when she fell on her rollerblades when we crashed loverboy’s birthday party in sixth grade, but I can’t think of why he broke his arm that time.

That is neither here nor there.

What I wanted to tell you was my memory.

Ding Dong! The witch is dead! Which old witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead!!

I was little, and my parents were still married. We still lived at the house on the lake, the one I remember as my first home even though it wasn’t the first house I lived in as a child. We were outside, and Maggie, our golden retriever, was outside in the driveway with me and Dad. I can’t remember if Mom and Drew were outside with us.

I must have just watched the Wizard of Oz.

Standing at the base of our driveway, by the wooden fence in the front yard, I stood. Though I’m not sure what I was doing down by the fence and the road, I’m sure it was something awesome, like picking grass, or licking rocks, or climbing the rickety, not-made-for-climbing fence. Out of nowhere, I heard something hit the ground with an odd jingle-smack. When I turned to look what it was, I saw that a set of keys had hit the ground behind me. From the sky.

I looked up and saw that the once perfect blue sky was dark, and there were words written in the sky. Don’t ask me what the sky said because I sure as hell can’t remember.  I could swear I saw that mean old, green-faced witch ridin’ off into the sky.

Yeah. That was my memory. That’s the memory I chose to write down to be published.

Really?! I think about that now and just think, Really, Katie? REALLY?! What the hell!?

The best part about this is that I swore that this memory was legit. I would have bet my life on the fact that this actually happened. Of course, when my mom read what I had written down (of course, once this silly little booklet was printed), she had no idea what the hell I was talking about.  The other best part is that I didn’t have a doubt in my mind about the validity of this memory. I didn’t believe I had anything to be embarrassed about by sharing this memory. I believed I had experienced something paranormal, g-d it! I had encountered a physical object falling from the sky! I had seen a witch writing words in the sky!

That was fifth grade. In fifth grade, I still believed  that this memory existed. Who am I?!

I was a weird kid.

Oh, remind me to tell you about the time I ran into a moving van on my bike. Or the time I got my fingers stuck in a wiffle ball. Or the time I found a power tool (drill) and put it to my forehead, turned it on and left a cut in the middle of my forehead. Or the time I played the piano with my face and cried every time I banged my head too hard against the keys.

I bet you’re glad you stuck around to read this.