simplysassy

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Is it weird that last night I had a dream I met Sadam Hussain and he wanted to be my best friend and sent me 3 little puppies to tell me how much he wanted to be my best friend?

When I blog, I write about real things; things that happen to me every day in my life, good things and bad things. However, some of my recent posts I think have become a little, for lack of a better word, inappropriate.

I'm not going to write about my job anymore. No bad details. There will still be funny stories, so don't worry if you like them. After a few "I can't believe you said that"s and "what if she reads this"s I don't think I'm going to write about the Lesbian anymore.

But you will be the first to know if I get fired/ quit my job/can't take the shit anymore/finally grow some balls to stick up for myself.

The link that I posted for my Relay for Life page is not the real link. Hopefully this link will bring you to my donation page.

Sorry!

All of our lives have been touched by at least one person who is struggling with their fight against cancer. This is a fight that they cannot do alone. Because this is something I feel very strongly about I have decided to take part in the Relay for Life at UConn in April. I'm so excited about doing this because it's something that I've been wanting to do for so many years.

I want to raise as much money as possible to donate to the American Cancer Society and I can't do that without your help. Many of you, myself included, don't have that much money but I am asking you to please donate whatever you can; even the smallest amounts all add up to make a difference.

Thank you in advance for all of your help!

Click here to visit my donation page.

The other day I was helping Tori study for her social studies test. This particular test was on a unit called "Our Country" like what it means to be a citizen, the president, fun stuff like that. Seeing as how this is the second grade we're talking about, she had quite a word list to define:

citizen, symbol, ballot, vote, celebrate, the Statue of Liberty

Despite being taken aback by how much information she had to know for this test, she forged ahead banging out every definition and trying her hardest to sound out and read every word. At the end she was quite exasperated and turned to me and sighed, "Jen, you're so lucky that homework gets easier as you get older because you can read all the long words."

I just looked at her and laughed and turned back to studying neuroendocrinology. Hey, at least I can say it.

So this is how it went down-

Lesbian: Are you going to be around on Saturday, I was thinking about taking an hour-long run

Me: Umm, I don't know (ie: yes, but I don't want to waste my time at work)

Tori: [chiming in] Aren't we going on the 5 mile bike ride on Saturday?

L: Yes, and we definitely don't need Jen for that.

M: No thanks, I'm not a big fan of bike riding.

T: How can you not like biking?

M: Well, when I was younger my parents always used to force me and my sister to go on really long boring bike rides. After that, I just didn't like biking anymore (which is a horrifically true story)

T: They forced you?

M: Yes, they used to tie us up and shove us in the trunk of the car and make us go bike riding. Then maybe they would buy me ice cream if I didn't cry too much.

L: Oh really? Wow, that's so interesting. So your parents were active?

M: Um? I guess so, why?

L: I always thought that being active was hereditary. Hum, that's weird that they were active and you aren't.

M: [longest pause ever] Um.mmmm..mmmmm...

L: Did you ever play any sports?

M: I played softball and did volleyball and swimming for a season or two. It's just not my thing.

L: That's just so interesting that being active is not hereditary. And you're not? Right?


So really I can't understand why she would make such a broad, general, insulting conclusion about me TO MY FACE. Someone please get this woman a vagina she can eat.

In response to last night's Project Runway finale I have this to say:

CHLOE??? are you kidding me? AND she had the ugly, lanky model. Her designs looked straight from old, cheesy, soap operas and they were made with material that looks like it could hang from a window.

I'm not pleased. I thought Santino's collection was the best one out there, even if I didn't like his work in the past.

Stupid Nina, Michael Kors, and Debra Messing!

How disappointing.

This semester I'm taking a junior writing class, one of the required core classes for psychology. Basically we just write papers about meaningless cognitive psychology crap and our teacher plays mind games with us. I'm pretty sure that most of you are familiar with the concept of peer review. If, by chance you've missed the memo, peer review or editing is when you get in small groups and edit other peoples papers. Yeah, it's a good time.

Today was not like any other day I've experienced in my entire history of peer editing. Today a pact was broken and it's going to be something that takes me many hours and dollars in therapy to get over.

There is this, how shall I put it correctly, Man-Student in my particular section of junior writing. He can only be described as having some type of slow personality mental disorder in combination with a fatal dose of monotonality (yes, I believe I just made that word up). When the teacher asks a simple question, like "How do you site this source?" the Man-Student will proceed to give you so much detail as actually counting out how many spaces between each word and how many spaces the second line should be indented, and so on. He'll tell you what letters need to be capitalized and turn what should be a simple answer into the longest, most drawn-out explanation in the history of citations. In short, it's bad to have to listen to it. And he does it for everything. Sadly, it's not unlikely that the class will secretly snicker as the Man-Student tries to sound intelligent to his younger counterparts.

Now, I feel bad for the Man-Student as much as the next guy because he obviously has issues. This is all fine and dandy as long as there's a good distance of space between us, you know, an appropriate distance that is allowed by the restraining order I filed against him because I'm scared for my life.

Anyway, back to peer editing. Normally when this time comes around we students like to stick to groups that we've previously been in; it's just sort of an unwritten rule. The last peer review group I had was with three other cool people. In our group we made a pact: it will always be the same people. Really simple, not hard to understand or anything. Everyone agreed. And today, let me just say it was different.

One of the guys that was in the original group deserted the 3 of us. Left us high and dry. Left us to suffer. And so, you guessed it, we got stuck with Man-Student who somehow found a way to sneak into our tightly pressed-together desks and join our group. You're thinking "Who cares?" or "So what?" right? Well, no! It was a big deal. This guys paper was nothing of what it should have been; it was practically twice the length of the requirement and really had nothing to do with cognitive psychology and when it was finished being read left me seriously saying "What?" out loud.

All the things you think would be impossible to be included in a paper about cognitive psychology Man-Student somehow found a way to include. Like what? Like Adam and Eve, like going in-depth talking about some painting. The assignment was to explain a phenomenon that occurs in cognitive psychology. Sounds simple, right? It should be simple. But, somehow Man-Student's paper made me even more confused about top-down or bottom-up whateveryoucallit processing than when I started (and I knew nothing about it to start).

What Man-Student couldn't comprehend about PEER EDITING is that in the group, the other people are supposed to comment and show constructive criticism to make the paper better. Yeah, he didn't get that. One of my friends in the group, I'll call him Fred, tried to make a suggestion that maybe this paper was a tad too long and a bit confusing. Man-Student didn't accept that. It was probably the worst demonstration of insecurity I have ever seen. There was an argument; a big one. At one point, everyone in the class had stopped what they were doing to witness this heated debate about whether Man-Student's paper was written in size 10 or 12 font Times New Roman. Knives were whipped out, daggers were thrown. I think Man-Student even killed a kid with a trident.

There are two morals to this story: first, don't mess with man-students. And second, ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS respect the pact made in peer editing groups.