Sugared Harpy

Saturday, friends and I attended the Shakespeare Festival in Forest Park.

All last week and several times before the Festival, I was told of last year’s events and the tragedy suffered. You see, these friends had attended last year. Or so they tried. They came early, set up chairs and enjoyed a picnic before the play. They wined and dined and jovially chatted the hour or so away, eagerly anticipating a gorgeous evening and a lovely performance.

Five minutes before the show, all hells broke loose. The sky opened and rain poured down. The friends had to hurry to gather things and themselves, hightailing it to various cars. The play shut down.

OMG y’all, guess what happened this year?

We brought the picnic, we sat in the chairs, we enjoyed the summery weather. Five minutes before the show, all hells broke loose again. Torrential downpour. We were soaked. At least last year, I’m told the afflicted just went to the movies.

There was no doing that this year.

By the time we got to the truck, my hair and cotton dress was plastered to me (an appealing sight to be sure, lovely lady lumps my ass). I swear it took eighty kajillion minutes to walk to the goddamned thing. When we finally made it, I lamely thought I could wring myself out a bit before actually squishing into the front seat, but failed miserably with the sideways rain and all.

NB peeled off his shirt to avoid sticking to the seat while driving home.** A few chuckles were had about this shirtless truck driving and the sheer awesomeness of it. I anxiously waited for the fantastic sirens and lights of a cop pulling him over.

I was giddy with the thought.

Not that he needed a ticket or anything that drastic, but to watch him get pulled over shirtless driving a truck gave me quite the tingle. It would be like an episode of C.O.P.S., only in REAL LIFE.

I believe I maniacally rubbed my hands together and cackled. And maybe prayed for it a little.

~~~

*Thou spleeny crook-pated scullian!

**Why, the newish boyfriend, of course.

I lost the last post, eaten by the gods.

But wait!

I appease you all with video of the blessed event!

If you listen closely you can hear us screaming and laughing. We laughed the entire flipping way, right into each other’s ears. It was a love song of a kind, it goes like Ayeeeeeeeee! So soothing.

As for an allergy attack waiting to happen, hells yes it was.

In my master’s thesis, I acknowledged and thanked the P.P.

The Pussy Posse.

These are the fabulous group of women I was blessed to attend graduate school with and who I get to see tonight, after two years apart!

I can’t wait. Ladies, I adore you.

(for you bloggy ladies getting out tonight, I will miss you and have a blast!)

Daniel summed up Field Day at his school thusly:

It’s like you run in circles on a hard track, running around like a pack of wild baboons because some teachers are yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” So you go. I mean, what else are you going to do, they’re hollering at you.

Then you get rewarded with popsicles.

For all of you who are caretakers and nurturers to children and grandchildren, friends, pets, coworkers, siblings, lovers, neighborhood kids, parents, and partners…

Happy Mother’s Day!

I had a shitty last night and a shitty day.

So I got a pedicure, sushi, and bought a new pair of shoes.

Note the color: A good sin

Also note the brand loyalty: WTF?

(Note the third, aka how I stand on the edges of my shoes whilst idling around making them look as though my feet are supa wide. They are not. Ahem. However, according to my pedi lady today, my feet are “like a little baby’s!”)

I iz in ur unmade bed.
Slakr.

(Inspiration by I Can Has Cheezburger?; photo by new camera – squee!)

I am a very nice instructor, JUST ASK ME.

Har.

I am, really. I am quite sensitive to the fact that for so so many students, school is a major undertaking surrounding lives that involve partners, families, homes, work, kids, etc. I’m still green enough to allow a makeup exam or put the syllabus up on the web in case theirs gets lost.

It’s just that I was a student a wee bit ago. A student who struggled with school and a family and work and gah, it was sometimes hard.

I realize that not everyone has the support I’ve had.

HOWEVER.

When your mama is taking you to Disney World and the day before you leave you send me this email:

I wanted to know if I could take the final exam tomorrow anytime before 3:00pm. I know I just got out of your class, but I am going on a family vacation to Disney.

please don’t expect a buttload of sympathy.

A) I will, in fact, work around vacations even though that’s a ton of extra work for me. Because I envy your vacationy ass and I am praying the universe sees fit to send me on one someday and that said universe is NOTICING MY GOOD DEEDS. But lo, if you give me less than 24 hour notice…sister, you is crazy.

B) I am guessing that since I have given you a full semester of notice for the exam date (as written on the syllabus you received on day one), and the exam date has been on the website since day one, and I handed out a final exam review (which your lucky ass still gets, I debate this every semester) that had the date on it, AND I have been talking about the exam for two full weeks (that you know, maybe you missed out on by sleeping in a few too many days), I am thinking that you knew before this very moment that there was a final exam on said date.

C) I am also guessing that you knew you were heading out to the Great Land of Disney and Sunshine before today. Things like vacations generally take a touch o’ planning. My guess is you’ve been buying up beachwear and hott sunglasses for at least three weeks now.

D) I highly doubt you will be able to tell me the difference between Monet and Manet. And you totally missed out on the excellent model/rape victim vs. artist/stud with a phallic paintbrush Kirchner discussion. It was cool.

E) There is no reason for you to take the final. There is no hope of passing at this point, what with forgetting another exam and not turning in a term paper. Oh, and not coming to class.

So.

No.

She did not get the the special exam. Even if I had wanted to, there was NO way to do it with my schedule. It still makes me feel like crap, though. Not necessarily the exam, but the fact that she all out failed this course. I need to get over that feeling…I know it’s her fault, I realize that the blame is all there but I hate when a student fails.

I HATES IT.