Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Last month, as it really has been a month now, I took my annual voyage to the summer camp for nerds, AKA the College Board's read of the AP US History exams.  We've been in Louisville, KY for my tenure, which isn't all bad.  I lived in Kentucky twice, got my bachelor's there, and while it is not my longest place of residence it is the place that captured my soul for homesickness boughts and markers of oddly made binaries of identity.  In blunt laymen's terms, I'm not from the Bluegrass but parts of me are.  So, amid the mass of grading--and OMG there are so many essays in seven days--I meet up with some old friends from years gone by.  And . . . I partake in local cuisines, like Ale-8 and bourbon.  We all know that I have a long love of bourbon . . .  That being said, this year's view derives from the Marriott . . . as I wasn't at the Galt.  Did I mind? Eh, ya know . . . those little free apps and bourbon mixers at 5 everyday went a long...

Some of you know what this time of year means to me . . . one broken heart, hard memories to face, and the perpetual avoidance of phone calls from one person. Actually, since I have a new cell number I won’t have those calls this year. Woot on that one. These things have nothing to do with the Hallmark holiday. Someone I once hung out with, had relations with, talked to (you find the phrase . . . ) called it "Naked Baby Angel Day." That name has stuck with me, so "Naked Baby Angel Day" it is. For the Hallmark holiday I have got more bad memories and experiences than I should, and on a disturbing level most of those memories have become funny. In 1998 my college roommates (well MC and Jess—Mellie and I wanted no part) decided to put out a "Wanted Ad for the Ladies of Unit 2." That action alone easily surpasses the other memories. Essentially, those two had watched entirely too many episodes of _The Dating Game_, and they thought it would...

These days I've been thinking a lot about what has transpired in the past year. Last year this time I was fretting away the days until a defense, battling severe anemia, and then there was that pesky surgery on the horizon. Don't forget I was staring the prospect of unemployment in its ugly face. Funny how much things have changed, and it is also funny at how they haven't come that far from where they were. Last month I realized that I hadn't gone out much in almost two years. That was when things started, well I should reword that. That was when the health started to go sour. I didn't feel like explaining so I let that conversation make me sound like more of a loner and nerd than I really am. I defended just fine, had the bloody surgery four days later (yes, a bad pun I know), and things went awry. What I let people know is that there was an unplanned blood transfusion, which coincidentally gave me my bat wings. And seriously, for those of you that are ap...

Leaving Long Island was a lot of things. Though, being an upstanding citizen and all, I did flip it off as I crossed the Throgs Neck Bridge. Yes, I did. Mature, I know. For those of you who got my messages all day . . . laugh. I did. The point of this . . . I am now at my end point, for the time being. And no, I am not happy about the state of my life and career at this point in time. Rooting through things, unpacking, freaking out because I have no job, and becoming even more depressed to learn that adjunct jobs are slim to none has left me far far too uncomfortable. So . . . I rummaged through the vinyl in my parent's house to find my old Willie Nelson Stardust album. Humph. First, I opened the closet door and what did I find? No, not a literal skeleton. But, I did find a metal cane propped next to a .22 rifle. I was even a bit dismayed to learn that it was a "real" one and not an air. Now seriously, is this set-up meant to be easy access for the upwardly a...

This past January my Dad and I were perusing cheap bookstores in Chester, VA. Before I tell you about the bookstore, you should know that we had just come from JcPenneys. While there I used my trusty camera phone to take photos of some hideous prom dresses. They were white, with about twelve yards of white tulle, and they had black and gray sequins on them. I won’t post that photo here because I am sure that many a sixteen year old thought they were the coolest thing since sliced bread to wear to the prom. Now, for that bookstore . . . Dad and I went into a discount bookstore, and while perusing I came across what I can only call the dumbest book I have ever seen. Seriously. Now, if you need a book on how to be a sex goddess I personally think that you need to get out more. You know, there are these delightful places called BARS that anyone can be a goddess at. If you are low on self-esteem just walk into a trashy honky tonk. Drunk ...