For Reals

The Gre is in fourteen hours, and I'm starting to panic. The using the mouse portion I'm feeling confident about. Even the math might be okay after brushing up on triangles. It's the vocabulary that's crap. Syncophratic febrefuge penury scoddelwaggery. That means something, and not just I love you.

Also, something more interesting than the GRE study guide? Practically nothing.
Except this:



(Nail growth study done at the Institute of Medical Illustrators)

Reeding, Righting, Rist-o-matic!

Here's an update of my life as a future grad student:

Lately, my days have been full of the little things: buying manilla envelopes, only to realize that I need even more manilla envelopes, since for every school that I apply to it's really like applying to two (one to the department, one to the graduate school. Jerks.); spending hours detailing individual lists of things to do for each school, and then realizing I still haven't actually had the time to start doing any of it since I spend all my time in "prep" work, (like a doctor, except without the payoff of "saving" "lives") and while that feels constructive, it's not; and buying 12"x12" cork squares for a makeshift corkboard on which I've hung all my manilla envelopes and checklists. At the time it felt like a great idea for organization's sake, but I've since reconsidered. Apparantly staring at the board of mfa's for an hour before you go to sleep each night, only to be greeted by it as the first thing you see every morning isn't as relaxing as it sounds.

On a positive note, the cork board fell down, bringing all my hard work down with it into a crumpled mess of paper and tears on the floor. I've since reinforced it with a nail-gun. Suckers.

So, if you're interested, here's my final list of schools:

University of Virginia (Charlottesville)

University of Texas (Austin.. WOOHOO!)

University of North Carolina (Greensboro)

University of Alabama (Tuscaloosa)

University of Arkansas (Fayetteville)

University of Michigan (Ann Arbor)

University of Iowa (Iowa City)

Columbia Unviversity
Cornell University.

If you're impressed, consider writing me a letter of recommendation, since I still only have two, and I need three. Sweet F-bombing deal!

As you may have noticed, the list is full to the brim with the bible belt. So clean the windows, Jaron! I'm coming to visit!! (if I get accepted, so maybe hold off for now)

Of some concern: Brent has expressed the opposite of willingness to follow me past the Mason Dixon Line. Or is it Mason Dixie? I think I called it Dixie for a long time, thinking it had something to do with those crazy racist paper cups.
Ah, love.

How to Make Friends 101

Okay, this was super. Don't tell me it wasn't.:

My dad wanted this ultra cool pair of motorcycle pants, which my mom thinks is stupid, so he asked me to order them, and once they arrived at my place he would come in the dark of night, secretly pick them up, and hope my mom didn't notice him parading around the house in ultra strong mesh-layered yellow motorcycle pants. The plan was that they were to arrive in the morning, and I was going to call my dad and tell them they'd gotten here.
So, the Fedex guy comes while I 1) had just gotten out of the shower 2) was incredibly indecent. So I threw on a sweatshirt while he rang my buzzer over and over and OVER again (smooth, right?), and hoped he wouldn't notice that I am a fantastic floozy obviously home alone. In the end, Fedex guy gives me the box with my dad's pants in it with nary a disapproving glance.
No sooner had I closed the door and ripped off my shirt the phone rang, so I answer it and it's a man's voice on the other end... my father has amazing timing!:
(Dad): Hello?
me (obviously excited, and also running late for class): Hey! Great timing! Guess what I just got?!
(D): What?
me: Your pants!
(D): What?
me: Your pants just came in the mail, not kidding less then five minutes ago. They're here!
(D): What are you talking about?
me: .... (small, horrified voice) ... dad?
(D): It's Jaron.
me: (horror)
Jaron: What are you doing with your dad's pants?

Moral: I am awesome.