Caustic Cupcake's Creepy Cupboard

Yesterday I was supposed to go get certified to manage alcohol responsibly at 11 o'clock in the godforsaken morning in good old Levittown (read the article; it has a great aerial photo) of all the depressing possibilities places, but instead I went back to bed just long enough to skip the training course and hate myself.

The good news is that an hour or two later my father called to ask if he could redeem one of the birthday coupons I gave him. Frankly, I was relieved, because if he never redeemed one it would be a useless, worthless gift. But it wasn't, and I spent the afternoon raking leaves.

I took an hour longer to get there than I said I would because I was revising submitting my heartfelt admissions essay to Drexel and [the University], embedding the secret message "YOU WILL GIVE ME A GIGANTIC SCHOLARSHIP" by spacing out the secret code letters within the text of my essay the way some people believe secret messages were embedded within the Torah. No, not really, but thanks for the idea! The Torah Code thing didn't really fly with the academics, but we'll see if The Admissions Essay Code has any impact on my financial aid package.

I could have come back to it later, but I was frustrated and had to send it before I left or the universe would collapse. It had already been more than a week since I told Logic Professor I'd wait 24 hours to send it, and I hadn't gotten the chance to revise it all week- and not for want of trying.

But then I felt guilty for keeping my Dad waiting, and was sure I'd find him dead in the front yard clutching a rake, having started without me. They're not getting any younger, my parents; in fact, my Mom is turning 60 in a few weeks. That makes me sad. Often.

While Dad was at Home Depot getting something- I don't know, a rake tine sharpener?- I went inside to have a cup of coffee with my Mom. I told her about the benefit we had at the bar the night before for a member of that crew that hangs out there and his wife, who unfortunately just lost everything they had- including their two small children- when their house went up in flames. The show of support was incredibly touching. It was the side of street organizations that you don't see on the 6 o'clock news. And the first thing my mother said was "Can I donate something?" because that's the kind of person she is.

The back yard looks great now, and I have what will be raker's calluses on my thumbs after they heal. To my credit, I did not complain, except to remark that the corner of the yard where two fences meet? Where 97 trees apparently prefer to deposit there leaves? Is a beast. The pile was up to my knees BEFORE I started unpacking the damp, compacted, tremendous triangular brick of expired vegetation. "This corner is a beast," I gasped. "Yes, it is," my father said. But we got it done, and Mom brought us uot a plate of peanut butter and jellies. It was very suburban America. But I'm not complaining.

After another cup of coffee and a couple tissues streaked with the black, dusty snot of a person who's been hanging out in the company of a rake and a lawnmower all day, I hung out talking to my parents, installing CCLeaner on their computer (they had OVER 16,000 TEMPORARY INTERNET FILES), and looking for my grandmother's old papers. She had saved some letters written in Romanian from her relatives in the old country and there's a Romanian woman in my Health and Wellness class who offered to translate them for us. We didn't find the letters, but we did find a stack of old school papers from when us girls were in elementary school. So you know what I was doing for the next hour or two.

It was ten o'clock when I got home, armed with a letter from Temple that had showed up at my parents' house- the university hadn't changed my address since I applied back in high school- that gave me a username and password to log on and check the status of my application.

"OWLnet!" Logic Professor cried fondly when I opened the page. "I remember OWLnet!" It was as if I'd whipped out a picture of one of his childhood pets. Then I clicked on "Undergraduate Admissions" and lo, there was the message. It was rather anticlimactic for me, although Logic Professor fell over and broke into the Temple fight song (with cheerleading gestures).

I called my Mom and told her. Aside from a sizable (yet still insufficent what with the cost of an education these days) (by cracky) Pell Grant, my financial aid is still pending, and THAT is what I'm waiting for before I'll get excited.

This morning I called my old boss from the donut shop to tell him Happy Birthday and Happy (Orthodox) Easter, and to let him know that I got accepted into Temple. He waited a long time to hear something like that.

CONGRATULATIONS! You have been admitted to Temple!

Labels: Higher Education, The Application Process

Last night I took Logic Professor out to dinner across the river in Chinatown for our six-month anniversary. We ate at a vegetarian restaurant, which renewed my disdain for fake meat. When I'm vegging it, I don't replace meat with anything; I just eat more of everything else. Part of the reason is that fake meat is always a freaking letdown. A creepy, suspiciously squishy letdown.

Then we walked around in the beautiful night, sat on a monument in a public park, tried to get into a backhoe that was parked on a side street, and took the train home to go to bed.

Just now, as I was sitting here working on my admissions essay for [the University], LoPro came in and asked if I remembered talking in my sleep last night. Hell no! I rarely do, except for those instances when I wake myself up somehow, like when I dreamt there was a spider on the wall over the bed and jumped up to turn on the light, which revealed nothing but my own embarassment.

Apparently, last night's conversation went like so:

Cup: (sits up to get out of bed)
LoPro: Where are you going?
Cup: I have to get the pencil.
LoPro: What pencil?
Cup: The pencil! I have to get the pencil!
LoPro: (trying to think of a specific pencil of the many pencils in the house) Do you mean… the pencil Parsley chewed up?
Cup: Yeah. (lays back down)
LoPro: Are you sleeping?
Cup: (bashfully) Yes.
LoPro: Why do you need Parsley’s pencil?
Cup: I have to show everybody.
LoPro: You mean, on your blog?
Cup: No...
LoPro: Why do you need it right now?
Cup: (mumbles, doesn't respond)

Last night's conversation was a little unusual because normally I deny being asleep. "Are you sleeping?" he'll ask. "No," I'll scoff indignantly, and then ask to speak with the mayor or something.

Sometimes, though, it's not so easy to tell whether or not I'm awake, and obviously asking me won't work, so I have requested that he ask me a math question or something to make sure. That should eliminate all the times he tries to remind me of something important was discussed the previous night only to find that the next day I have no memory of it because I was asleep.

Labels: Insanity

WARNING: We're disgusting.


Here's my favorite picture of us, outside on the walkway that goes between two buildings to get to our door.


Us in the kitchen:


More of us on the walkway. The kitchen door is only 5'6" tall and 2.5' wide.


Look at his beautiful yellow eyes. They glow like that all the time; sometimes they're more green, other times light enough to look silver, and often very yellow. First I made him stand up and come out onto the walkway so I could get a picture of them in the sun. "Aw, man," he said. "I have to stand up? Life is so hard." Then I made him look into the sun without squinting so I could get a good picture, until he finally yelled "TAKE IT!" and I collapsed in a fit of laughter. Finally I got this picture with him standing inside the kitchen and me laughing on the top step (there are two steps down into the kitchen through the tiny door).


Lastly, here's a picture of the person everyone really wants to see: Parsley.

Allow me to explain what's going on in this picture. That's his cage, which is lined with trashbags and newspapers and hay for his defecating delight. The door is always open, and it stays on the floor so he can just hop in and out. His food and water are in there, too, because bunnies literally shit where they eat. Often, he flops over in front of the cage, perhaps exhausted from all the strenuous eating he's been doing. Here, because we live in an old, old apartment and there are only five outlets- no, really, five- my laptop cord is seriously infringing his personal space. Yes, I was sitting there the whole time he was next to the dangerous power cord. In the upper right-hand corner you can see the bottom edge of the Bunguard that he's pretty much given up on making it through.

Labels: Bunny, Flat Life, Logic Professor, Lovelife

I had the weirdest customers last night.

My favorite, by far, was the guy who got so drunk that his embarassed friends gave me forty bucks. Can you buy dignity? At my bar you sure can.

In the process of getting himself drunk, he attempted to get the people surrounding him drunk as well. This extended to a couple of nearby girls, one of whom had already been flagged but just not notified. That's the way to do it: don't tell them until it's unavoidable. Before they even know a flagging has taken place, the flagged individual might decide they're not thirsty anymore and go fall over on the sidewalk outside which is, technically, not within the jurisdiction of the bar, right? On the other hand, if they're notifid early, as in "Don't even ask for another one because you're not getting it," they might cause a scene even though they weren't going to have another one anyway and had been planning on just going outside and falling over on the sidewalk. Because causing a scene it one of the things drunk people do best.

So because the Embarassing Drunk Guy had offered to buy her a shot, I had to cough up the unfortunate and apparently surprising information that she was, in fact, intoxicated to the point that if a lighter were held in front of her face her breath would catch fire. Leave it to the Embarassing Drunk Guy to be the catalyst for an altercation. He's the one you can't be mad at for what he does because although he's incredibly wasted he means no harm, but he's the one who somehow causes all the possible harm in any situation. You know him; he's the one who goes outside for a smoke and accidentally knocks over the row of motorcycles. He's the guy who buys one more shot for the belligerent drunken bitch who has to get thrown out a minute later.

So she got bitchy and belligerent and I apologized and offered to get her all the soda and water she wanted, reassured her that I wasn't kicking her out and that she could stay as long as she wanted, reiterated that she hadn't done anything wrong but should probably take a break for a little while, and then kicked her out because she grabbed her friend's shot and did it in front of me to be spiteful. I kind of wanted to hit her with the glass. The important thing is that I didn't.

A few seats down was a man who'd decked himself out in dozens of chains, rings, handkerchiefs, and studded cuffs; the more he drank, the more surface area of the b4r he occupied. First it was just a beer and a Walkman. Then it was a beer, a Walkman, and some sketch paper. By the time I kicked out that spiteful whore and the Embarassing Drunk Guy's friends were handing over dignity money, there was a beer, a Walkman, an assortment of sketches and paper, a partially-eaten piece of
pizza, a bouquet of crumpled napkins, and a glass of water that couldn't be refilled fast enough.
"Hey, Cupcake!" he called from his end of the b4r while I was making a couple drinks for someone else.
"I'll be there in a second," I said.
"Come here!" he said.
"I'll be there in a second," I repeated.
"Can I have some more water?" he asked.
"I'm helping someone else," I said, walking past him with my hands full of glasses.
A moment later: "Cupcake?"
"I'll get your freaking water in a minute," I spat.
"Okay," he said, dejected, and put his headphones back on (despite our blaring jukebox).

Soon, the slow drift of his person and possessions threatened to overtake the personal space of a friend of mine who bounces at another b4r, has zero trepidations about throwing down for something as minor as a personal space violation, and is in posession of a voice that makes Darth Vader sound like one of the Chipmunks. I have \advised him look into portraying the Voice of God for a living. "Why does everyone say that?" he said at the time.

In retrospect, I should have just let him unleash his Intimidating Voice on the guy. He started to say "Haven't you ever heard of personal space?" but I interjected and asked the Man of a Thousand Chains to move down a couple seats.
"I'm leaving anyway," the guy said, which was a welcome change from "Can I have some more water?" So the guy started to sort out his things, and untangle his headphone cord, and take another sip of beer, all the while bumping into my friend who had stopped reading his book and was now concentrating on identifying the perfect moment to throw the other guy to the ground. When I saw him about to hit Chainy McAnnoyington, I reached out and touched his hand.
"Stop," I said, and smiled. It is incredible what the smallest of gestures can do.

Around that time, someone else ordered a Grolsch with the resealable cap and kept asking if he could leave with the bottle.
"No," I said. "It's an open container and you'll get arrested fifteen feet from the door and I'll laugh at you through the window."
"It's not an open container," he said. "It closes. And it's not like I'm walking home. I'm driving."

What. the. fuck?

I assume he meant that he wasn't going to be walking home drinking out of it in plain view. My question is, dude, why did you ask me? The answer is no. The answer will always be no. But do I actually care? The answer to that is also no, and that is why you should just STICK THE FUCKING BOTTLE IN YOUR COAT WHEN MY BACK IS TURNED AND LEAVE WITH IT.

All in all, I made good money. I'm tired now, so I'm going to go curl up next to Logic Professor. A few updates, though:
- Major bio project grade: A. Second bio test: B.
- Got a copy of Stat Prof's recommendations, and now I don't know how to thank him.
- Third literature essay: 99. Amount of work I have to do for the rest of the semester to get an A: none.
- Saw JQ the Neph-ew on Tuesday night! Logic Professor and I picked him and Jul up from the train station. Jul and I speculate that LoPro might be JQ's true father.
"Can I be with Mr. LoPro for a bit?" he asked when we got into the car.
"Sure," I said.
"Can I sit up front with him?"
- The weather here is beautiful, and my hostas and columbine are coming up. I also just planted a bunch of gladioli and caladium.
- We still haven't unpacked most of LoPro's books.
- I can't get the scanner to work to put up more cartoons on the other site, but I'll start using LoPro's computer instead, so look for new ones in the next couple days.
- One of the b4rtenders just gave two weeks notice and I want her shifts.
- I need to get certified with some kind of alcohol management thingamajig in the next week or so to continue working at the Cool Punk Rock B4r. Not very punk rock, huh?

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r

A partial list of things Parsley has chewed on in the past couple of days:

• A broom that was leaning up against a wall, leaving a little pile of amputated bristles on the floor in front of it.


• A large paper gift bag; whether it's the sturdy texture or the bright magenta color that appeals to him, I don't know, but something about it keeps bringing him back. We're leaving it under the kitchen table for him to chew on while he's sitting at our feet.


• Two sticks of mint mojito-flavored gum that were left in a pack on the floor where I sit in front of a mirror to put on my makeup. Bad idea on my part. I returned to find that side of the cardboard nibbled away in the shape of a stick of gum, with the interior wrapper flayed open as if an autopsy had been performed, and all previously present gum was missing.


• The USB cable to the printer, so extensively that there is now a spiral electrical tape running almost the full length of the cord. I've been better about wrapping it up after use.


• Assorted tissues, papers, and receipts.

More to come, I'm sure.

Labels: Bunny

Yesterday morning I wrote and submitted the admissions essay for Temple. Yesterday afternoon into evening I wrote my final essay for literature, which comes a little early in the semester but considering how hugely pregnant the professor is, can't be due early enough. Then I wrote the admissions essay for [the University]. I'm waiting 24 hours to submit it because Logic Professor said that was a good idea even though I want to submit it, like, yesterday.


And now I was just sitting here waiting for coffee to brew before I get ready for school and was thinking, holy shit, I'm applying to college. I got the shivers.

Oh, and I went and got the fucking pennant.

From: Cupcake
To: LoPro
Sent: Apr 17, 12:40 am
Message: There is a little stuffed shark on the draft beer thing- a beanie baby- and I must have one please for my birthday kthxbye

From: Cupcake
To: LoPro
Sent: Apr 17, 12:41 am
Message: IT HAS TINY FELT TEETH WANT WANT WANT

From: LoPro
To: Cupcake
Received: Apr 17, 1:03 am
Message: Yay! Shark purchased!

From: Cupcake
To: LoPro
Sent: Apr 17, 1:11 am
Message: Really?! My birthday shark?!

From: LoPro
To: Cupcake
Received: Apr 17, 1:11 am
Message: Hell yeah!

From: Cupcake
To: LoPro
Sent: Apr 17, 1:27 am
Message: You love me :-}

From: LoPro
To: Cupcake
Received: Apr 17, 1:27 am
Message: Double-hell yeah!

Labels: Logic Professor, Lovelife

This is the twelfth Wednesday I will go straight to work after school, work until about 3 am, then go back to school in the morning. Really now: who came up with the spelling for "twelfth"? How awkward is that?

I have to get in the shower, but there are a couple things I wanted to blog about. First, I apologize if the Creepy Cupboard has suddenly become Cupcake's House of Do-It-Yourself College Transfers. It's been occupying me a lot lately. I will make a point to blog about crazy drunk people, dick, and the garden some time this week. That, after all, was what the Creepy Cupboard was designed for, right?

Second, here's my New, Updated, Seriously Awesome Top Three College List:

1. [Undisclosed] University- It has a great English department, it's down the road, and it will allow me to segue nicely into a masters degree. Where, if anywhere, does the apostrophe go in "masters"? That has been hounding me for weeks. Anyway. Yesterday I went to my old lit professor's office and he gave me some promising information about his relationship with the woman at [the university] who will be reading my application, which is to say that he has one and that it's in my favor. SCORE. I could not say "thank you" enough.


2. T for Temple U! U...niverisi...T!- Yeah, I sure like it there, and I just completed the application. One down, two to go!


3. Drexel University- Still the place my father went, still likely to give me money, still not known for their English department.

That's it. Shower time.

Labels: Higher Education, The Application Process

I miss my nephew. That is first and foremost. I intend to go to Quizzo tonight, but not without first seeing his sticky, candy-smeared little face.

I have all kinds of things I want to blog about but don't have the energy to blog about them the way they deserve to be blogged about.

I will say this, though: yesterday I fell off the vegetarian wagon and landed on a Big Mac, and it was delicious. It was an isolated incident. But then later on I figured that as long as I had one isolated incident that day, I might as well have another one, so I went back and got a quarter pounder with cheese for dinner. So it was an isolated day. That saddest part was my realization that a Big Mac AND a quarter pounder with cheese have the same amount of calories as those jalepeno poppers I inhaled the other day.

Wow, these pajama pants feel tight all of a sudden.

I tried to upload a video of Parsley for you guys but was thwarted by our screwy internet. It's on its way, though. Speaking of Parsley, last night while I was filling out reams of transcript request forms, he was flopping down on the living room floor in front of me. No single flop seemed to do the trick; he'd stand up, flop down on his side, roll around a little, then get up, move over a couple centimeters, then flop again, and then he'd get up, turn around, and flop that way, too. It was cute. Then I went in the kitchen for something and when I got back I found that he'd eaten half the check I made out to Cupboardsburg College to release my transcripts. No, really: he ate half of it, so that there is no longer a name on the check. He also bit off the top corner of the transcript request forms, and chewed up the top edge of my Phi Theta Kappa application, which is funny because he already chewed it up once and I'd cut off the edge to make it even. But he's not the kind of individual you can be mad at.

It turns out that I can't walk in graduation after all because I missed the deadline to turn in the forms. The deadline: April 1st. The day the woman in the Advisement office gave me the form? March 31st. You'd think she would have said something about it, you know, after I said I'd think about it and walked out of the office with the uncompleted form and went home, but, you know, maybe she thought I already knew or would figure it out on my own. By the next day. Good thing I stuck it in a folder to think it over for a while. At least my decision is made for me.

But I'm not bitter. I stopped in the bookstore later to get a copy of something for Lit class and saw a felt penant that said Cupboardsburg Community College and thought, How cute! I hadn't seen those before. I should get one and hang it over my bed. Then I dropped it back on its hook and thought, Why would I hang up a penant from that college? It's not even my college. I'm not graduating from there. NOT BITTER AT ALL. But after I went home and thought about it for a while I decided I'd get one anyway because you know what? I fucking love my school, even if I can't graduate until next year. The only reason this all hurts is because I like this place.

Cupcake approaches Statistics Professor's desk with her completed exam and kneels down.
PROF: Are you okay? You looked confused back there.
CUPCAKE: (realizes that her trepidation about asking for a recommendation has been misconstrued; in fact, she finished the exam twenty minutes ago, and has been checking and re-checking her answers to avoid walking up to the front of the room) Oh... oh, no! No, I was just checking it. Actually, I was wondering... I'm applying to other colleges now, and I was wondering if you would write a recommendation for me. I could bring you all the forms and stamped envelopes and everything.
PROF: Well. (pause) You've taken my class twice and done respectably, so I suppose.
CUPCAKE: Thank you so much! My major is English, but I think it would help to have...
PROF: Recommendations from other subjects?
CUPCAKE: From less subjective subjects, yes.
PROF: Okay, get me the forms. What colleges are you thinking of applying to?
CUPCAKE: Oh, a bunch... Temple, Drexel... (drifts out of room before he changes his mind)

* * * * *

Cupcake approaches the hugely pregnant World Lit professor after class.

CUPCAKE: I know this is the first class I've taken with you, but I was wondering if you could write me a recommendation for other colleges based on my writing and stuff?
PROF: Sure!
CUPCAKE: I could get you the forms and envelops and everything...
PROF: Uh-huh. When do you need them?
CUPCAKE: Whenever you can! That would be awesome! Do you need to know anything about me to write them? I know I haven't participated much...
PROF: Just a copy of your transcript would help, and a resume, if you have it.
CUPCAKE: Sure! Thank you so much! When you were absent Wednesday, I was so scared, because I thought...
PROF: I know! I was afraid everyone would think that I'd gone into labor.
CUPCAKE: Yeah, and I thought, oh no, there goes my recommendation! Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?
PROF: No, we didn't want to know.
CUPCAKE: That's great. Thanks!

* * * * *

From: Cupcake To: American Lit Professor
Subject: recommendation for an old student at CCC
4/11/2008 3:28PM
Dear American Lit Professor from last semester,
I'm getting ready to submit my transfer applications for this fall and was wondering if you would write a letter of recommendation for me. I would bring you the necessary forms and envelopes.
Thanks,
Caustic Cupcake
(American Lit, Fall '07)


From: American Lit Prof To: Cupcake
Subject: re: recommendation for old student at CCC
4/12/2008 9:55AM

Yes.

* * * * *

So yesterday I also attemped to infiltrate join a handful of honor societies to beef up my applications but got shot down each time. You already missed the [National Health and Wellness Honor Society, International 2-Year College Cafeteria Beautification Club, Anti-Plagiarism Coallition, History Awareness Society of Eastern Institutions of Higher Learning] induction deadline for this year, the replies said. Apply again next spring. Well, the point is that I'm not coming back in the spring, but they don't know that, and neither did I up until a couple weeks ago.

I should have been participating in activities and honor societies all along, but I figured I could jump on all the appropriate bandwagons by last semester, not knowing that THIS WAS MY LAST SEMESTER. That was pretty short-sighted of me. The good news is, I think, that I can join Phi Theta Kappa at any time- I just won't be able to participate in the official induction ceremony, and that's fine. I don't need the ceremony, I need the credentials. The other good news is that the math society hasn't gotten back to me, which makes it Schroedinger's Honor Society. Unless they write back telling me otherwise, I AM TOTALLY IN.

I'm still unsure about whether I should walk in the graduation ceremony. I'm allowed to walk if I have less than 9 credits to complete, the assumption being that I'll get them out of the way in the fall. Logic Professor wants me to walk so he can walk with me. However, I might not wind up getting a diploma after the fact, and then I'd feel stupid for walking. And not knowing whether or not we have legitimate cause to celebrate, I'd feel weird celebrating with my family. I'll celebrate when I physically receive my diploma, whenever that might happen.

I'm off to go print out some recommendation forms and stamp some envelopes.

Labels: Higher Education, Statistics, The Application Process

I did it again today.

I used the toilet, got in the shower without flushing (intending to flush after the fact), and then left the scene of the crime house to go to school. Without flushing. And Logic Professor gets home an hour before I do, so he was the lucky guy who opened the lid, discovered it, and had to flush for me. Again.

I say "again" because this is the second time I've surprised my boyfriend with a bowlful of the inside of my intestines. ("Did you mean 'bowlful' or 'bowelful'?" he just asked.)

It was horrible. Horribly embarrassing. So much for the illusion that as a woman I do not in fact defecate.

The only way to settle the score and relieve my mortification would be for him to do the same thing to me. That's how we'll know it's a serious relationship. ("Not gonna happen," he warns. IF YOU LOVED ME YOU'D DO IT.)

Uggh.

Labels: Flat Life, Lovelife

It's 7:22 pm, and things feel much less dire now. Of course, I did just eat 1,010 calories worth of jalepeno bites (including sauce), and calories are known to boost serotonin levels. And by "they are known" I mean "they are known to me". Clearly.

Torn between finishing my final lab report and completing my Spanish homework, I sucked it up and... did neither. But it was 72 degrees and sunny today with cheerful, puffy little white clouds hanging out in the sky, and everything turned up Cupcake. It turns out that Spanish Prof had accidentally assigned the same thing twice, and I had forgottn that I'd already done it months ago until another student brought it up, and I looked through my folder, and lo! There was the exact same worksheet, except magically completed! Then we took an uneventful quiz and left early.

Having left early, I was able to fly back to the Creepy Cupboard, smother Logic Professor in affection for a few minutes, and then finish the lab report. I skipped the first hour of lecture, but made it to the lab session where I turned in my report, arranged for the third lab partner to send me a copy of our godforsaken data later tonight, and kicked ass on our assignment for the day. No, we really kicked ass: we were the first group done, and therefore earned ten extra points towards something-or-other and got to leave early!

Afterwards, I obtained several flats of pansies at Home Depot. You know what? I don't even like pansies. I just got them because there were no petunias and I was starved for something pink and petal-y. Nevertheless, flowers make my fucking day. I also picked up some bulbs and seeds, including moonflowers. Yeah, more of them. What happened to the last crop? I killed them. That's right, I killed them. No, it was not on purpose.

This year I'm doing something very different: I'm not investing in 200 pounds of dehydrated, composted cow manure. Don't get me wrong; it's good shit (literally!). But there have been rumours that the landlord might pave over the backyard soon to make more parking for the tenants, and while I could dig my plants up and pot them if that happened, I wouldn't be able to get the shit back out of the ground.

In other news, last night while I was at work, Logic Professor visited his parents and got to talk to his mom about what she thought of my parents. Shame on me for not blogging about this sooner: our parents met for the first time at the diner last Friday night. It wasn't my idea- oh, fuck no- but it went well and I got a mild enjoyment out of to knowledge that all four parents, not knowing why they were being introduced before a wedding, might have been bracing themselves for a pregnancy announcement. Well, not my father. He doesn't think like a normal human being, probably because he could not strictly be defined as a normal human being. He might have been bracing himselves for, oh, I don't know, what would be the worst thing that we could spring on him? Conversion to some fundamentalist sect of Christianity?

No such announcements were made; we just had grilled cheeses and coffee and whatnot and chatted. To my horror, both sets of parents got there before we did, discovered each other, and started to talk without our supervision. Lord only knows what they might have said in our absence.

So last night LoPro got to talk to LoMo, and he reports that both our mothers like each other a lot. My father, however, might have initially frightened the LoParents with his icy Slavic silence and withering gaze, which is commonly misunderstood. I remember a neighbor dropping by to talk to my mother about something, and as soon as my father had stepped outside, she asked, "Is he mad at me, or is he always like that?!" No, he's always like that. Behind what you might interpret as distinct disapproval, or even thinly veiled anger, is probably a thought process like this: Hmm. I wonder if there's any coffee left. I could go for a cup. But maybe it's too late for coffee. Well, it's not quite 8 o'clock yet. I suppose it would be alright. Yes, I think I'll go look in the pot. Oh, wait, I think someone just asked me a question. But I wasn't listening. I'll just look at them. Maybe they'll repeat it. They're not repeating it. I suppose it wasn't important. I guess I'll go look for that cup of coffee now.
And the other person is thinking, Wow, what did I say? He wouldn't talk to me, and then he just glared at me and walked out of the room!
And in the other room my father is thinking, Looks like I'll have to put on another pot of coffee. Or maybe if I stand here with an empty cup long enough, one of my daughters will do it. Aha. There's one now. Time to turn on the pitiful. (holds out cup)

Once Logic Professor and I and all of our parents sat down at our table and started talking, the LoParents must have gathered that it's not that my father strongly resented them, the diner, and the world at large, but that he is just always like that.

Aside from the post-diner roundup, LoPro and his mom also talked about our seemingly impending wedding. I think she's trying to marry off Logic Professor to me. He is, after all, her last unmarried child, and he is also living in sin. Have we thought about getting married? she wanted to know, since we're already living together (in sin, remember). Logic Professor told her that our first priority is getting me into school. But are we saving for the wedding? she wanted to know after that.

Hearing about that conversation made my day.

So! To summarize: school is going well for the moment, I'm not pregnant but our parents met, we're not getting married until I'm safely ensconced in a reputable program of study, I've got pansies, and now I'm going to study for my third statistics test.

Labels: Biological Hell, Higher Education, Logic Professor, The Garden

To the lab partner who wrote back that she already turned in her lab report and didn't have a copy of the data:

Fuck you; you're a liar. Did you type it up on a typewriter? Chisel it in stone? Dictate it to a stenographer? No, you typed it on a computer. And I know you have one because you emailed me. And after you typed the lab report, you saved it. I know you saved it because you're not an idiot. And either you don't know how to attach a file to an email, you're afraid I'm going to copy your exact wording (which carries a penalty of a halved grade for both parties), you didn't actually do it, or you misunderstood and thought that I wanted you to get me a paper copy, which, admittedly, would be a pain in the ass. No, no, no: I just need the fucking numbers. I need the numbers because you already turned your lab report in, and because we did the experiment together, and because Bio Prof knows we did the experiment together, our numbers must be the same.
But we'll talk about this in class today.




To the lab partner who never emailed me back:

Fuck you.




To the lab partner whose email I didn't have:

You got off the hook this time, but as I said above, we'll talk about this in class today.

Labels: Biological Hell, Higher Education

I think I may suddenly be in Biology Prof's good graces. No, really. It could just be that our class of forty has whittled itself down to fifteen die-hard survivors and that it's easier to distinguish between us now. But I'll take it.

The question was this: why do three nucleotides make up a codon? Why not two? Why not twelve? If it had been a biology question, I would have kept my mouth shut, but it was a math question, and so I raised my hand and asked if it was because three was the smallest number that could generate enough combinations to correspond to all the amino acids- that two would fall short and four would be flagrantly unnecessary. Lo, it was correct, AND NOW SHE APPEARS TO LIKE ME.

I believe this because after class I asked when our third lab report was due.
"Last Thursday," she said.
"I... had no idea," I said. "I was just flipping through my notebook and realized I hadn't written a report for it yet."
"YOU NEVER GAVE US A DUE DATE," another student behind me interjected indignantly. "People just started turning it in because they were afraid! You gave us a tentative date and never said another thing about it."
"I didn't?" she said, then turned to me and said, "Get it to me as soon as you can." Score 1 for Cupcake! Thank goodness. Maybe she would have said that anyway, but I like to think that I'm on her good side.

Then I got home, started to type it up, and realized that I'd ripped all the sheets of data out of my notebook and recycled them, assuming that it was old data for which I'd already written a report. That report is a sizeable chunk of my grade. Or, it was. I feel a particular sting of irony because I did most of the work for put a lot of effort into that experiment.

After I'd written an email to a couple of my lab partners begging for the data, I started the next lab report (which will be the last one, thankfully), and halfway through it, the word processor crashed because obviously the universe hates me. THIS IS A NEW COMPUTER; HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?! VISTA, I HATE YOU.

So I went in the other room and whined to my boyfriend for a while, concluding that I really needed an ice cream cone. He valiantly leapt to his feet, but I stopped him, admitting that if he left the house to go get something just to satisfy my selfishness, I would be sure that he would get in a car crash and die. I was the child who insisted that I be woken up every morning to say goodbye to my father before the sun was up, because if I didn't, he would die. And it would be my fault. I might have revealed way too much of my psychological makeup in that moment when I told Logic Professor he couldn't go get me a fucking ice cream cone. Perhaps it was that the universe already seemed to be working against me last night that I felt compelled to admit that to him. Luckily he finds my fatalism endearing. For now.

So both of us went to the ice cream stand and got a cone. After that things seemed better, but I think it was mostly Logic Professor's doing. I fell asleep on his shoulder while he was internetting in bed and I don't remember him putting away the laptop or turning off the light.

By the way, and this has nothing to do with the rest of the post, he got a haircut yesterday and the barber used a straight razor apparently for the purpose of excising chunks of Logic Professor's neck. HE CAME HOME BLEEDING.

Today is the eleventh Wednesday I will go straight to work after school, work until Oh My God O'Clock in the morning, then wake up for school tomorrow. There are four such Wednesdays left in the semester after this one. If one of my lab partners emails me the data, I'll be typing that bitch up at four a.m., probably with white knuckles and clenched teeth. If they don't, I'll have to beg them during class and turn it in late. By late I mean even later.

It turns out that [local University] is still accepting transfer applications until they run out of space. IT'S ON.

And Logic Professor, I love you.

Labels: Higher Education, Insanity, Logic Professor

It happens almost every half hour when I'm home: I'll be standing still looking out a window or something, and as soon as I take a step, I trip over Parsley. In the few moments I've been standing there, Parsley has quietly come to a rest between my feet. Or, I'll be walking across a room and trip over Parsley because he darts out of nowhere and runs straight into my foot.

Parsley is very affectionate, and very needy.

When Logic Professor and I eat, Parsley sleeps under the kitchen table at our feet. When I shower, I hear his little nails clicking around on the bathroom tile. When I sit down to read or do schoolwork, Parlsey runs in circles around me. If I stand still, he either flops down between my feet or runs in figure eights around them.

It's usually very cute, but sometimes it's dangerous. For instance, when I was cleaning out the big walk-in closet in the living room before LoPro moved in, Parsley was in the closet helping me, I guess, by ripping up wrapping paper and chewing on old books. I enjoyed the company, but when it came time for me to take a television off the top shelf, I couldn't get rid of the freaking rabbit and he wouldn't get out from under my feet. I wound up having to carry him outside and shut myself in the closet to take the TV down without killing him.

Just last week I took LoPro's recliner off of the couch (yeah, we still have furniture piled up here and there from the move), carefully noting that Parsley was in his cage eating hay or something. (He has a cage on the floor where his food, water, and litter are, but the door is always open and he just hops in and out of it as he pleases. He never sleeps in there.) I sat down in the chair and put the footrest up. A few seconds later Logic Professor was home from work, so I closed the footrest and got up to hug him. In the thirty seconds I was sitting down with the footrest up, Parsley had rejoined my side and walked under there. I didn't know it when I closed the footrest.

And then we moved the chair to the other side of the room. This gives me shivers- we could have easily killed the bunny. He didn't make a sound. A few minutes later LoPro asked, "Hey, have you seen Parsley?" It's unusual for him to be out of sight for more than a couple minutes.
"Yeah, he's around. He's probably hiding," I said.
"I haven't seen him since I got home," he said, and undertook a search, then reported, "I still can't find him." That's when I got up, and I couldn't find him either. I forget which one of us looked under the chair and found him trapped, laying as flat as could be, but we immediately picked the chair up and shooed him out.

He was dark grey. And now, days later, he is still a little dusty-looking.

Right now I'm typing this at the kitchen table and the bunny is kind of rolling around on the carpet next to me.

I'm grateful that Parlsey came into my life, and I try not to be frustrated when he's clingy. He's got a big heart, and, as far as I can tell, he loves his people. I know he doesn't try to get in the way, and if he does, he's only being playful. I only hope that I remember to look down every time I take a step, because chances are I'm not alone.

Labels: Bunny

Holding up an acorn: "It's how they make theirselves!"

Trying to remember the word photosynthesis: "What is it called when the plants eat the sun?"

Labels: Dr. Thumbscre.ws

For the record, it's nine fifteen and I'm still in my pajamas. Nine fifteen AT NIGHT. I got home at about 3:30 am but couldn't sleep; I finally took a nap at some point in the afternoon (truth be told, I don't remember when) and woke up at 7:45- yeah, pm- feeling refreshed. Now I'm going to be up until zero o'clock in the f-ing morning and won't want to get up for school tomorrow.

Last night was awesome because at one point the b4r was lined with people I like- all regulars and friends. The highlight of my night was when the Dred-Locked Researcher and his Incredibly Gay Friend (who needs another pseudonym, because I'm not going to keep calling him that, because that's not the defining facet of his being, even though he embodies the stereotype and might in fact be trying to do so) walked in. I might have screamed. "I thought you guys were never coming back!" I exclaimed.
"We came back a few weeks ago but you weren't here," said IGF.
"I take off once in the past year and that's the day you guys come in?!" I bitched. Dred-Locked Researcher beat a pal of mine who is also the best pool player I've ever seen in person (after about thirty losses), to the applause of myself, IGF, and a handful of spectators. Before they left, I exchanged phone numbers with both of them and we're going to get together for dinner or Quizzo. Coincidentally, the crowd that includes my friend who hosts Quizzo was also there at the same time, and so was the tall skinny tattoo artist and a bunch of crew members. I saw all these cross-sections of my life over the past nine months I've been at the Cool Punk Rock B4r sitting next to each other drinking Pabst and it was surreal.

Before Logic Professor and I get together with DRL and IGF, I want to get them some giant microbes as a present- neurons, actually, since they're in psych-pharm research. I'm also getting a T-4 bacteriophage for Logic Professor and myself to snuggle with at night.

The other highlight of my night was when I'd climbed into bed complaining about being hungry yet too tired to make something, and Logic Professor insisted that I eat. After repeated offers and multiple suggestions, he got up to make me a piece of toast and returned with toast AND scrambled eggs. HE IS AN ANGEL.

I had planned to use today to type up lab reports and start projects and so on, but I just slept all day.

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r

This week has been a flurry- nay, an f-ing blizzard- of admissions-related activities. The most important factor in my college search is the almighty transfer deadline. It's a damn shame, yeah, but by the time Cupboardsburg College published its list of fall courses and I realized that I couldn't graduate for another year, it was already past the transfer application deadline for most of the colleges I had been looking at- March 15th, which is, coincidentally, International Backstabbing Day. Et tu, Cupboardsburg College?

So I've scratched up a list of colleges that accept transfer apps up to June 1st, July 1st, July 15th, and August 1st. I've sent away for information, filed my FAFSA, registered for college tours and information sessions, started studying for the May SATs*, and downloaded applications.

The silverest silver lining emerged when I filed my FAFSA, because this? This is the year that I turn 24. So this is the year that, for financial aid purposes, I'm no longer considered a dependent of my parents.

This is the year that the government decided that I am not responsible for any of my tuition expenses.

The plan now is to find a school that wants me enough to give me all grants all the time, instead of a mix of grants and loans. Because believe you me, I have no intention of accruing- or paying back- student loans.

I'm totally doing this on the internet. Here's my heart on my sleeve. These are the five schools I most want to get into, the five schools from which I most want to receive huge financial aid award letters now that UPenn's International Backstabbing Day transfer date is gone. When I look at UPenn's website, my heart cringes.**

1. Drexel University. Bonus: My father (and two of my uncles) went there, and there's an automatic grant for that, even though it is my understanding that he spent much of his time there playing ping-pong, rocking the ganj, and getting kicked out, re-admitted, kicked out, re-admitted, and so on. "On second thought, you might not want to put my name down," he joked the other day over the phone. And now he builds rockets and airplanes! Downside: None of their classes seem to match the classes I've taken at Cupboardsburg College. Good graf, can't I transfer ANYTHING? What the f- are they teaching over there?!


2. Temple University. Bonus: All of my Cupboardsburg College classes match, they are the most likely to shower me with funds, and they offer a minor in Russian. Also, Logic Professor got his first degree there and still speaks of it fondly. Downside: Not as impressive-sounding as Drexel, and my parents think it's in the ghetto.


3. [Undisclosed] University. Bonus: It's in my state (read: they will give me money) and I really like it. Downside: I already missed their transfer application deadline for this fall. If I hadn't, it would be my #1 school. Ray of Hope: They're coming to Cupboardsburg College later this month to host a transfer fair for this fall. All together now: WHAT? I have no idea either, but I'll find out.


4. Villanova University. Bonus: Wow, what a good, impressive-sounding school. Downside: It's Roman-Catholic, it's not in the city, I've heard there's a significant danger of tripping over empty beer bottles and unconscious students when you walk across campus, and it's over an hour away. Oh, yeah, and it's Roman Catholic.


5. Arcadia University. Bonus: They're big on arts, their campus is pretty, I can get there by train every day, and they have a castle (!). Downside: I'd have to take a train there every day, they already rejected me once (six years ago), it's in the suburbs, and I don't know much about it- although I did spend the night there once or twice because my best friend in high school wound up going there... without me. See above, re: getting rejected.

So now the internet can know all about my impending defeat or triumph.

Here goes nothing.


* I took them my senior year of high school and got a respectable (or at least acceptable) score, but it's been over three years (six, actually) and there's an extra 800 points to be earned nowadays. While the SATs aren't a requirement for most transfers, I'm pretty sure that with two years of college under my corset I can beast the test this time around and that could make me look that much more impressive. I think. OH WELL IT'S ALREADY PAID FOR.

** This should be a post of its own. I spent some time at Princeton doing s0und back in my spe4ker-slave days, and looking at UPenn's website evokes the same kind of heart cringe that I remember from back then. It whispers this is what you'll never have.

Labels: Higher Education, Product Endorsements