- Freshman boy on the phone: Hello? [chewing on french fries] Hello? Hello? [more fries] Hellooooo?
- Me: [glare]
- Freshman, still on phone: HelloooooOO? Oh hey. (some words about something unimportant), oh yeah, I’m at the brown tables. COME! Hello? Hellooo? Yeah. byeeee!
- --In the library, directly across me. Loud. as fuck.
- [and then his sick girlfriend came, and inappropriately touched him in public.]
Blogs that I’ve read that were absolute crap: 62
Granola Bars I’ve eaten : 0.5
Genetics problems I’ve successfully completed: 2
Annoying people in the library on their phones: 2
Turkey slaughters I witnessed in the lab: 3
Emails I’ve written: 13
Percentage left on my iPod battery: 15
Times I wished my computer was fixed so I could do this shit at home: 1, 247
So this is sad, but the best part of my day was when our latex glove/disposable plastic pipet delivery guy today left me a bag of plain M&Ms after dropping off a few boxes of lab necessities. at 12:45pm.
And it went downhill from there.
I got a final interview for Teach for America! Cross your fingers, boo boos.
- Frat boy: Okay, guys, to recap: We're not going to tell my parents about getting arrested, the Xanax, my nipples...
- Other guys, in unison: Got it.
- --Canal & Lafayette
I should also include an addendum to the previous post. This PhD adult has also included self proclaimed “glamour shots” of her cats.
and she’s married.
So I’m taking this bullshit research writing class online.. and my teacher is completely inappropriate. I guess she’s trying to be the hip professor, however I draw the line at emoticons, which have appeared in multiple posts. And after my discussion board post about myself (which had to include my favorite movie/food/book/smell and unique trait) she responded with:
Welcome to the class, Sarah! Your stint as an airbrush tattoo artist and caricature artist got my attention. Do you still do caricatures? That sounds like such a fun hobby to have (as long as you aren’t drawing your professors, ahem!).
I’m grossed out.
Guy is riding Vespa in bike lane, and girl opens her car door, nearly taking him out.
Girl: I’m sooo sorry about that.
Vespa guy: No, it’s my fault.
Girl: Well, fuck you, then.
Sporty Spice is 34. How did we get this old?
Before you know it, we’ll be too old to try out for Real World.
Adult chaperone: ‘Kilt’?
Preteen boy: Killed.
Adult chaperone: And what is ‘kilt’?
Preteen boys, in chorus: A vernacular term.
Adult chaperone: That ain’t English.” —8th Ave-bound L train, OINY