Of Bouquets and Blowjobs

There should probably be a disclaimer up here about being sensitive to certain endeavors and the fact that I’ll be blunt and not necessarily tactful in the following, but this is based on a conversation between B and I that I have found too delightfully entertaining to not share. So, yeah, there will be discussion of blow jobs and flowers in the following. If you don’t want to read about it, well, you have been warned.

When B and I first started dating, way back when, I was given advice by a dear lady that I worked with to always have fresh flowers in the house when he came by. She told me that this finishing touch, even if he never commented on it, would be noticed by him and appreciated. I’m not sure if this advice was just based on a different generational experience, or if my dearest beloved is merely immune to the enticements of floral buds, but he never noticed nor cared if I had flowers or not. Which wasn’t a problem for me, I bought flowers that helped me anticipate his arrival and then that brightened my days after he left with memories of stolen kisses and gently whispered love.

When B and I got married, there were no flowers. I spent my days leading up to the wedding trying to make sure the logistics would work and was barely able to spare the time to find a dress. Which, I couldn’t even find one to buy and got married in a dress that I detested and have never and will never wear again. All because it was blue and not black and that, at least, was acceptable. My Mom told me to buy flowers for a bouquet, I told her I didn’t want Walmart flowers and it would be fine. His Mom told him to buy me flowers, he told her that the Target flowers were ugly, and besides, he barely had time to marry me , much less buy flowers.

And then came the day that I came home from teaching and a trail of rose petals lead around the house. My husband had crafted a surprise for me and left me with two roses in a vase to remember that afternoon. He was proud of that moment. Quite proud, in fact, and referenced it often, especially if I hinted that I wanted flowers. I, being me, was amused that this one time occurrence of flower-buying and gifting was so highly touted by my darling husband. Which somehow, eventually, led to the following conversation.

I’m not sure what started it. But somehow we got on the subject of this one time (and at the time the only time) instance of him buying me flowers. He was pointing it out like it was the pinnacle of a relationship for him to have done so. And something inside of me snapped, what I said then, I still stand by now. For once in my life I managed to be witty and on the point in the moment and not just thinking of the thing to say three hours later after everyone else had forgotten what was going on. He brags about buying me flowers. And I respond.

You know, you and your flower moment. It’s like a girl giving a guy a blow job one time, and then always talking about how awesome she is for that one time that she blew him. No matter how many times he wants her to blow him again, she always refers him back to that moment that she did blow him. It’s her pinnacle. She won’t ever let him forget the one time she gave him a blow job and she will want major accolades for the one instance of the blow job. But she’ll ignore all future attempts to get her to blow him again. Because, you know, she did it that one time, for that one thing. 

He was silenced. This isn’t entirely unusual with B, so I waited. And then it came, the huh,  you’re right, I guess flowers should be more than a one time thing. I reveled in my triumph. I had managed to get my non-romantic husband to see that flower giving should be a regular occurrence, just like the other event that he enjoyed so much. (sorry friends, you were warned)

I wish this story had a fairy tale ending. That the prince brought the princess flowers at quirky-perfect times and remembered they had a great importance to her. But, the truth is that he even tried to get the gardener here in Turkey to rip out all the flowers. I had to protest to save the rose bushes over bare grass seed. He bought me flowers one other time as a sort of grand apology. Still, I’m hopeful that he’ll remember that to me, flowers are a nice symbol of him remembering something important to me. Failing that? I’ll just buy them myself. It’s easier than giving a blow job.

~The Countess~

Can We Talk About This?

B and I have a horrible habit. Truly, it’s scary and it’s unhealthy. It’s one of those things that subtly goes unmentioned when people are talking about happily ever after. But, it’s there, so I’m talking about it. It goes something like this:

B: So, what do want to do today?

Me: I don’t know what do you want to do?

B: I asked you first so you pick.

Me: But, I don’t know, you should at least give me options.

B: Fine, your options are play video games, just chill, or watch something.

Me: But that’s everything. Fine. I want to just chill.

Or like this:

Me: What do you want to do for lunch? (normally said while we’re out on base running errands)

B: I don’t know…

Me: Well, I don’t want to eat at Chili’s or Popeyes. But, I’m open to the BX or BK.

B: I don’t know…

B: *drives to BK*

This habit sadly started on our very first date. We met up at the zoo in SA and wandered around looking at all the cute animals. We held hands, hugged, and I dropped back to back Harry Potter and Douglas Adams references to guarantee a second date. We spent close to three hours at the zoo from 1400-1700…and then we talked until 2100 that night. We even got in his car once and drove around for 30 minutes. But we didn’t eat dinner. Neither one of us wanted to make such a simple suggestion as grabbing dinner together. So instead? We hung out in the parking lot just talking. (Okay, and maybe making out.)

Recently though, I’ve started to realize just how un-good this habit is. Namely, while I don’t want to state a preference between the BX and BK for lunch, it drives me nuts if he just decides without talking to me. Or that while he won’t say he cares between reading and playing a video game with me…he’s sort of hoping that I’ll pick the video game.

Hence, our newest phrase – Can we talk about this? Also manifested as – Can we have a conversation about this? Now we both state our preferences and work to a mutual agreement on things. It’s so healthy and grown up and almost makes me want to gag. I kid. Mostly.

Last night’s dinner conversation went like this:

Me: So…what are you thinking about dinner. (note: we were supposed to cook Chinese food last night)

B: I don’t really want Chinese.

Me: Oh good, I didn’t really want to cook it now either.

B: What else is in the house?

Me: I’m not sure, not a lot.

B: So what do you want to do for dinner?

Me: I already asked you that, can we talk about it?

B: Sure, I don’t really have a preference to anything.

Me: I don’t want to cook, but I’d be happy eating at Quda, Chili’s, or Pizza Hut.

B: All of those sound good to me, but I don’t really want to drive to K-town tonight.

Me: Okay, so no Pizza Hut then.

B: Yeah, I think I’d like to grab a doner at Quda’s and just eat it here.

Me: Sweet, that sounds good to me.

The differences are subtle. I left off the part where I nixed all the fast food options on base because I’m just tired of them. But, instead of one of us trying to force the other into making the decision about what we eat or do…we’re working as a team to come up with it. Maybe this isn’t a big problem for most couples, but it’s definitely something we run into on a regular basis. Neither one of us wants to rock the boat and we both have a strong dislike of changing plans…even when we don’t want to do what is planned.

I’m very hopeful that this new conversation tactic will start making it easier for us to decide what to do with our time. I’m also on a personal mission to actually state my preferences and not force my husband to try and guess them.

~The Countess~

The Real Prince Charming

Warning: this post may not be suitable for the delusional, the hopeless romantic, the sensitive of stomach, or any male.

They tell us all about how wonderful Prince Charming is. He’s handsome, debonair, a good dancer. He takes you out and is super considerate of your every whim. Right up until there’s no going back. And then he becomes real. And let me tell you, sometimes, the real prince charming has a slightly tarnished crown, but I wouldn’t take him any other way. That said, I have to share some dark truths about the real prince charming.*

The real prince charming doesn’t put the toilet seat down. He has a plethora of excuses, but the fact is that the toilet seat down will never cause him to fall in at 0200 like it will for you. My recommended fix: Always look before you sit.

The real prince charming farts. There’s no hiding it. Not when you have to open the car windows or evacuate the room. My recommended fix: Don’t. Then you can just blame him when you’re farting.

The real prince charming expects you to clean up after him like his Mom or his maid. Dishes, laundry, general messiness. My recommended fix: Just talk to him about it. Sometimes it’s a simple lack of awareness issue on his part. One conversation can result in him doing half of the laundry and surprising you with a clean kitchen.

The real prince charming hogs the covers and sometimes the rest of the bed. Falling off the bed is not a cool way to wake up, especially when it’s high off the ground. Snuggling with prince charming afterwards and making him feel guilty about it is a pretty fair trade though. My recommended fix: take full advantage of having cold feet. Put them on his legs. He’ll pull away from you which will result in you having more of the bed. He’ll also give you covers in the vain hope that this will solve your cold feet problems.

The real prince charming is pickier than a four-year-old when it comes to eating. Vegetables are the evil enemy. Meat and potatoes are about the only safe component to a meal. Salad means iceburg lettuce with tomatoes and cucumbers. Cooked vegetables have to be peas or asparagus. Covering things in cheese will help. Making it so he can dip it in ranch also helps. He will tell you that he prefers jarred spaghetti sauce to your homemade version. And probably not understand why that upsets you or why you won’t make spaghetti from scratch anymore. My recommended fix: Take the easy way out. Spaghetti is ready much faster if you use premade sauce. Fix the veggies you know he’ll eat for him and then spoil yourself with good ones for you. Make him take a multi-vitamin too.

The real prince charming plays video games. And he plays them alot. He might confuse you by teasing hard core gamers, but, he is one himself except in name. He’ll often want you to play with him. My recommended fix: Play with him but insist on drinking while doing so. He’ll be very happy with that trade off. Or don’t play with him and enjoy the time to read your blogs, blog about him, send emails, get a pedicure or otherwise enjoy some you time. There is nothing wrong with a little downtime in a relationship and video games are the perfect time for that to happen.

The real prince charming is handsy. Especially when he drinks. He’ll also talk all about you to his friends. The drunker he is the more crazily complimentary it will get. My recommended fix: Give him his drinks. Dress provocatively. And then dodge his contact all evening. It’s fun torture. And cheap entertainment. Only downside could be having nightmares that your prince charming is a zombie chasing you around the house. It feels very real when he regularly chases you around. Still, the compliments are a good thing just be sure to be there to edit or quiet him up if he starts getting too detailed with why he likes you.

The real prince charming will sleep until 1100 every morning if he can. Yeah, most have jobs that prevent this, but, some don’t. They like to stay up late in order to drink and play video games. Then they wonder why they can’t get out of bed the next morning. So do you, since you stay up with him and still beat him up most mornings. My recommended fix: Take advantage of the quiet time in the morning. You can shower without him harassing you. You can get your hair and make up done with out him asking when you’ll be done. You can totally poo in the toilet and not have to endure any comments on the smell. Or stay in bed with him and cuddle. That will wake him up earlier and make you both happy.

The real prince charming has no idea  how to get there. But, he’ll pretend like he does anyway. You may think this is a cliche and it is. It’s also true. This can be especially scary in foreign countries where the roads are strange and the rules are stranger. My recommended fix: Do yourself a favor and buy him a GPS. It’s a cool and trendy gadget so he’ll like it. You won’t be lost so you’ll like it. That or buck gender roles and volunteer to drive. It’ll save you a headache and maybe some stress as well.

The real prince charming is full of advice. Have a bad day? You should work out. Your computer isn’t working? You should try this. Making dinner? Be sure to cook it this way. Never mind that you’re cranky because you’re PMSing, your computer is down due to a fried mainboard, and he’s never cooked anything that wasn’t prepackaged and microwavable. My recommended fix: Just laugh it off. He really does mean well. He has your best interest at heart, he just doesn’t always know how to help you. At least he’s trying.

The real prince charming is a real guy. He’s not some fake stereotype. He’s flawed. He’s annoying. This is a good thing, because of course, you aren’t the perfect princess either. His flaws compliment yours. I’ll take my real prince charming, flaws and all over a “perfect” guy any day. My prince charming is perfect as he is. He’s real and I wouldn’t have him any other way.

~The Countess~

*All of these stereotypes are based off of my experiences with Prince Charming. Which are quite limited. And yes he’s taken. And no I don’t share. Go get your own.

Overheard Today

Noncom1: An issue would be that I arrived here three weeks ago, and this past Friday was supposed to have a financial meeting. After a roomful of us sat there for 30 minutes we found out it had been canceled because of a short day. Maybe letting us know would have been nice.

Genspokesman: We couldn’t announce the short day because of the inspectors. Your first shirts should have known.

Noncom1: No one told me.

Noncom2: My first shirt didn’t know.

Noncom1: And so I’m still waiting to file travel vouchers.

Genspokesman: Well they should have known. But we couldn’t tell everyone because of the inspectors. And no one told you not to file travel vouchers.

Noncom2: I was specifically told not to until I met with financial.

O1C: Me too.

A1C: Me too.

Whole room: Yeah, us too.

Genspokesman: Well that was bad information. But doesn’t our system work great here?

Whole room: Dead silence

It was the funniest/saddest thing I’ve heard in awhile. They were so set on defending their system that they couldn’t even realize how broken it was. Funny, sad, it’s such a mad world.

~The Countess~

Ramstein Farmer’s Market

Yesterday was Ramstein’s regional Farmer’s Market. I’ll go ahead and say that I was the fool who didn’t take her camera. I thought this would be like the farmer’s market back in Houston, two or three rows of booths with over priced vegetables and fruit. Yeah, I was really wrong. Next German street festival we go to, I’ll definitely have my camera. Regardless, some of what they had there was just too amazing for me to not share.

The Market was held downtown in among all the shops in the shopping district. The road here is cobblestone and faded brick. Combine that with the old-world buildings and the atmosphere was perfect. The day was crisp, with bright sunshine and cool breezes – possibly the best of what an October day should be. Pretty much all of the shops were open with their sales spilling onto the sidewalk. There were food booths and tents, beer tents (the beer was served in glass mugs), fruit and vegetable stands, handcrafts, animals, you name it and it was there. From the tourist type knick-knacks to the everyday useful, they had it all at this little festival. People were milling around speaking a variety of languages. The cultural atmosphere was one to just soak in.

My highlights:

1. The Apfel Saft (Apple Cider)

In the middle of all the bustle stood a long stone trough with a stone wheel and a big, thick log as an axle sticking well out on both sides. It was filled with apples and then the men rolled it back and forth, crushing the apples into pulp. The pulp was gathered in buckets and transferred to an old, stone press where it was stacked with wood boards and then squished to yield fresh apple cider. Which they then sold to the awed crowd. That was the best apple anything that I have ever had. It was crisp, tart, and sweet all at once. B and I agreed that it was our favorite thing of the day.

2. Wild Boar Bratwurst

This was the food item that begged us the most to try it. We gave in like little children and happily asked for, “Zwei bratwurst mitt brochen, bitte,” and waited to be handed our long bratwurst with it’s miniature bun. That was our first complaint about it. The bread covered about a quarter of the sausage. And it had a tough crust. As far as the flavor of the sausage – it was leaner and drier, but otherwise not that different from regular bratwurst. Now, I’m sure that this is quite good for you, but, I like my bratwurst juicy. Still, the beer mustard that went with it and the flavor of the sausage itself was quite good.

3. Perhaps this is something that would awe only me, but, they had a booth set up selling handmade bobbin lace pieces. They had bracelets, earrings, necklaces and so much more. I was in complete awe. I have been making lace for some 13 years now and so I was enthralled. Unfortunately the craftswoman was away from the tent when we stopped by and didn’t have a website. I’ll definitely be looking for her at future festivals and hoping that she speaks English.

In all, the German’s know how to throw a good street festival. Even just a farmer’s market on a Sunday afternoon in October.

~The Countess~

White Liar

I love this song.

~The Countess~

Of Klutziness and Closure

So, I was at work at Gymboree today. Cleaning the gym like I do every Thursday. And I tripped on one of the gym mats. One of the gym mats that our babies crawl and walk over with no problems. And I either broke or severely sprained the fourth toe on my left foot. It hurts like the dickens. But, it hasn’t turned all purpley-black like my foot did the last time I broke a toe. Either way it hurts. And, I feel like such a klutz, regardless. Kind of funny that I teach at a children’s gym and I hurt my toe while cleaning.

As to the closure, well, I turned in my thesis for the final time today. I have paid for it to be archived/published. And I have signed the form saying that I cannot access it anymore. That was my favorite part. It’s gone. I waved good-bye to it and skipped away. (This was before the toe-breaking) And yet, it is so hard to realize that my two years at Rice are drawing to a close. It’s almost unfathomable. And it’s absolutely amazing.

I’m not sure how long I’ll stay out of the academic world. I’m thrilled with this degree and I’m perfectly fine walking away right now. Who knows what will come up later. What I do know is that I am cherishing every day on campus. And every moment here in Houston with my friends. Because, before I know it this will be behind me. There are so many fond memories here. It’s going to be hard to leave, but, I’m excited for the future. Funny then, that closure involves an opening of other opportunities. I love life. It’s so amazing.

~The Countess~

Tea Party, Anyone?

Today was tax day. No one likes tax day. No one wants to give their government their hard-earned money. Especially if they don’t agree with the party in power. Or they think the government is mis-handling their money. It’s not an easy day. I wasn’t thrilled to have to pay taxes when I earned as ridiculously little as I did. But, I also realize that taxation makes the government go round. And honestly, we’d be in this boat regardless of which party was in power.

However, all of the Taxed Enough Already parties that were thrown, started me wondering, what other kinds of parties can we have? Either using tea or some other acronym.

*Disclaimer: I am not actually encouraging anyone to do any of the following. If you do and you get hurt or in trouble, I am not responsible and cannot be held liable.*

Tested Enough Already? Students, are you tired of being tested? Hold a party to revolt. Throw tea on your professor. Throw test pages and ink into the nearest bodies of water. (Doing so while in 18th century garb will definitely earn you more kudo points)

Seen Enough Already? Sick of all the stupid movies in the theater? Hold a protest party. Throw popcorn at the screens. Stand and sing during corny lines. Pretend to be on a sinking ship, I mean, come on, if the movie is that bad, you sort of are.

Practiced Enough Already? Music students, this one is for you. Aren’t you tired of being beaten down by your professors making you practice all the time? Don’t they know you have a life? Don’t they know you have better things to do? Stop practicing now. Decorate your professors’ studios with peas. Frozen/fresh/cooked/raw, it doesn’t matter. The smell and clean up should get at least a day’s worth of students out of lessons. Take those practice guidelines/assignment/report books and throw them into the school fountain.

Tasted Enough Already? Eaten enough at a restaurant to decide you don’t want to pay for the food? Throw it on the ground and storm out. No more paying for mediocre food. Throw it at your server, tell them you are having a TEA party and leave.

Slept Enough Already? Tired of your body demanding that you waste precious hours in sleep? Show yourself who is boss. Throw your pillows into your pool. Quit sleeping. Keep everyone else around you up too. You’ll be a revolutionary…although, revolutionize quickly, you won’t be around for long.

Played Enough Already? Kids, are you tired of your parent’s always telling you to go play? Don’t do it anymore. Do chores instead. Do your homework. Don’t let them tell you to enjoy your childhood. Throw your crayons in the creek. Stand up for yourself and your right to work.

What are some ideas for parties that you have? Do you think any of these will catch on?

~The Countess~

Thoughts of a Music Major

I know this feeling. I get it everytime I’m at a party with friends.

~The Countess~

Top Ten Signs You Have Awesome Friends

10. They put up with you.

9. They volunteer to meet you and hang out with you while you write your thesis.

8. You know you can call them whenever and they will answer.

7. They are always ready to go hang out/drink/talk/whatever you need with you.

6. They email bad/funny/tacky pics to you before they post them on facebook. And ask your permission to do so.

5. They name your thesis.

4. They know that alcohol should be used to celebrate every milestone.

3. They offer to let you live with them so that you can move to a new city.

2. They come over and study with you until 3:30 am, because they know you study better with someone else there.

1. They volunteer to pray for you for anything, anytime, anywhere.

Further Proof

In case the previous posts weren’t warning enough, some interactions with friends today proved that my thesis really is causing me to go insane. Three vignettes from my afternoon.

Vignette 1

(Setting: Rice University Blue on Gray scrimmage. (It is important to note here that Rice’s colors are meant to represent the Union and Confederate colors from the Civil War) Subject: Questionable calls by the ump, aka a coach in favor of the Gray team while they are pitching.)

Friend One: Are you serious? Ahem. What? Those are some liberal calls ump.

Me: Isn’t the ump calling liberal calls in favor of the South a kinda antithetical?

Friends One and Two: *Silence*

Friend One: Is the ump calling liberal calls in favor of the South antithetical?

Me: You know, the South is generally cast as being conservative, liberal calls?

Friends One and Two: *Silence*

Me: I’ve been working on my thesis too much.

Friends One and Two: Yep.

Vignette 2

(Setting: Same baseball practice.)

Friend One (to me with the sun setting behind me): These sunglasses are so good, I can look right at you.

Me: Really? That’s strange, because I can see your eyes.

Friend Two: Your glasses aren’t reflective? Now a girl is going to know if you’re looking at her or checking out another girl.

Friend One: *Taking off glasses to see if he can see through them* Really? You can see my eyes?

Me: Yep. I can see that you have blue eyes on.

Friend One: Blue eyes on?

Me: Shut up. Thesis. (As if this is an excuse against anything I say being utterly stupid.)

Vignette 3

(Setting: Me driving to a friend’s house to work on my thesis. Friends Three and Four call)

Friend Three: So, Four and I have come up with a name for your thesis.

Me: A name?

Friend Three: Yeah, you know since it’s taking up all your time, so we can refer to it by name.

Me: Okay, what is it?

Friend Three: Well, we wanted it to apply to your topic. And, since it’s kinda killing you slowly. We named it “Wilke.”

Me: You named my thesis after the guy who killed President Lincoln?

Friend Three: Yep.

Friend Four: (in the background) Supposedly killed Lincoln. And I helped.

All of this combines to be incontrovertible proof of my further descent into madness.

~The Countess~

What’s a girl gotta do?

I was working on my thesis tonight when Joe Nichols’  What’s a guy gotta do? on the radio tonight. And, because I’m such an industrious worker I decided that I should parody it for the ladies of my church. Without further ado, my parody.

What’s a girl gotta do? (A Parody)

What’s…a…girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Don’t wanna be alone and left to search

Just a sweet Christian guy who won’t leave me in a lurch

What’s a girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Well ask anybody we’re pretty good gals

We got the looks and the smarts but we’re all just pals

Getting to the point we wanna throw in the towel

And we don’t understand why there’re no weddin bells

What’s…a…girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Don’t wanna be alone and left to search

Just a sweet Christian guy who won’t leave me in a lurch

What’s a girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Hangin around all the right Christian spots

Volunteerin’ our time watchin other’s tots

One who’ll think I’m kinda cute and laugh at every joke I got

When I get to thinking maybe he’s athinkin maybe not

What’s…a…girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Don’t wanna be alone and left to search

Just a sweet Christian guy who won’t leave me in a lurch

What’s a girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Had a preacher man tell me, “Girl, here’s what you do

Hit the Bible study and learn what is true

So I went and I asked a question or two

But I’m still single though I learned and my faith grew

What’s…a…girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

Don’t wanna be alone and left to search

Just a sweet Christian guy who won’t leave me in a lurch

What’s a girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

What’s a girl gotta do to get a guy at this church

~The Countess~

Around Some Other Way

So, I came across a meme for creating your own album cover.

First click here. The title of the page is the title of your band.

Now click here. The last four words of the final quotation on the page is the title of your album.

Finally click here. The third picture is your album photo.

Combine in photoshop or paint and share it with the world.

Here are my results:

Chasing the Ghost: Around Some Other Way

Something about this really resonates with me. The “band name” comes from an album title by the band Collide. The quote is from John Tudor – A rumor without a leg to stand on will get around some other way. And then of course there’s the photo. Anyways, I like some of the concepts contained here.

To me, chasing the ghost, has always meant chasing after an ethereal or illusive dream. It’s about not giving up. Even when others might think you’re absurd. The phrase, around some other way, suggests a similar refusal to give up. I feel like it would make a good song/album title. Crazy no? And the image. It takes my breath away. So stunning. So beautiful. So hauntingly isolated. And just so you know, the font was just the one that popped up in paint. I didn’t pick it out on purpose.

Anyways, I thought I’d share. Check it out if you’re interested. If you go through the hassle of putting it all together, post it here or email it to me so that I can see it too.

~The Countess~

Time for a change

When a professor walks into a class and says, “Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to be your friend, I’m not even here to like you.” And he continues by telling the students that he will only give copies of the syllabus to the students that he knows and that everyone can download it from the site. And then he tells them that the students that he knows and likes would know that they didn’t have to buy the expensive book but that they can instead buy the cheaper previous version, but that the rest of the class is stuck with the expensive book. And when he closes by saying that yes, this is how he weeds out students, but he doesn’t care and he still doesn’t have an interest in being your friend. It’s time for him to get a new job. And, oh yeah, the smart student drops that class.

And, oh yeah, let’s get a few things straight – a professor, may not be there to be your friend or like you, but it is their job to help you learn the material and it’s hard to learn in a hostile environment. I believe that a professor incapable of befriending students should quit teaching. It is the professor’s job to provide the student with a copy of the syllabus. And, yeah, if they don’t care about the edition of the book then they should indicate that as well. Professors who weed out students by being tough are kick-ass. Professors who try to weed out students by being an ass, well they’re asses. But that’s about all. So yeah, there’s this prof and he needs a new job. Anyone have openings for arrogant assholes?

~The Countess~

Paperwork and Rodeos

So, Rice and I both dropped the ball for some paperwork that has to be done if I want to graduate. It’s a simple little form that was supposed to be filed back in October. And yeah, I’m just now filing it. I just wish that they (my advising professors and the administrative folks) would have been a bit clearer in letting me know what needed to be done then…instead of leaving me to panic about it now that there is roughly only two weeks to the deadline.  It’ll all be fine. I’ll get it turned in. But, a lot of this could have been spared if someone had asked me back in October if  I had turned that form in. Rice can be really bad about not paying attention to things that need to be turned in or filed. Ah well, I’m almost done with it all.

Rodeo Houston 2009 is just around the corner!!! I can’t wait. Jenn and I are already planning to go see Josh Turner. I love the spectacle of rodeo. It’s so much fun. Yeah, the extra traffic is a bit of a headache, but mostly, it’s a ton of fun.

~The Countess~