Lit Class: WTF?

So, today in Lit we were given the assignment of reading a couple of chapters, one of which consists entirely of the six short-short stories that we'll choose between to write our first paper, a comparison/contrast.

Now, here I feel the need to mention that my Lit book prides itself on being "contemporary" enough to include the latest in the "Literary Canon" which is defined for us lowly students as "a group of works that are generally agreed upon by writers, teachers, and critics to be worth reading and studying."

Some of it, to be completely honest, just strikes me as weird. It makes me wonder if some of these authors just sat down one day and said "hey, I'm gonna write a 'story' (snort, chuckle) composed entirely of song titles." Or some such.

Don't get me wrong, the author picked out good song titles for her subject, and it *does* lead you through the path of the "story" but come on, that's not a short story, not even a short-short. Maybe an odd kind of poetry, but not a story.

Even the story that is five sentences in its entirety makes more sense to be called a story than the list of song titles.

I know, I know, its supposed to challenge us, make us think beyond the classic view of literature, blah blah blah... but dangit, how in the heck am I supposed to write a comparison/contrast paper that's longer than the story itself? And you know, doesn't have artist information in parenthesis.

I'll figure it out. I've got a day or so to choose my subject or subjects, so I can re read them a few times and try to make sense of it all.

On the bright side, our prompt papers were returned to us, and mine had a little note on the end of it: "Good Writing."

*On an edited note, I wonder if my instructor would allow me to write my comparison/contrast paper sprinkled liberally with internet acronyms? Could be fun....

Apologies and Blog Props

I realize that I've been doing a lot of venting, and just day to day blah blah stuff on here. Honest, I'm trying to think of a funny to tell ya'll, I know I haven't done one in a while. I'm workin on it, I swear!

On another note, massive "props" (hey, I sit between two citified guys in my business class, don't kill me for not being able to think of a country-fried way of saying "Good job, dude!") to MattG for hitting 50,000 site visits on his sitemeter!

Matt, I'm jealous. Maybe I should try AD's suggestion of toilet humor and google-riffic phrases?

Lets give it a shot, see how my stats do today after this;

Britney Spears, Jessica Simpson, Angelina Jolie. *

Nudity, farting, poop, anal. **



*These are women that I think should be banned from appearing on the cover of cheesy supermarket tabloids. Give someone else a chance to get slandered, will ya?

** These are all things that were discussed in my Horse Production class today. Yes, really. Gotta love it when you're discussing taking a rectal temperature on a sick horse and someone mutters "yeah, but that thermometer isn't big enough to really enjoy the anal action." Oh yeah, and I now know how to bribe my Horse Production/Riding instructor. She likes Jaegermeister.

Conflicted

I've been conflicted on various things since I started getting everything set up for school.

To stay at home, or to get an apartment.

Which elective classes to take, i.e. should I take the ones that I really want to take that have nothing to do with my degree, or should I take the ones that look mildly interesting but have a bearing on my degree?

To get a student loan, or not to get a student loan.

Which horse should I bring?

Should I open my mouth now, or keep it shut and play nice?

Should I wait for the time I was *supposed* to bring my horse up, or go ahead and bring him, since they told me I could if I really wanted to? (Plus side on bringing him early was getting to go ahead and start riding. Minus side was the feed crews aren't organized yet, so I'd have to feed myself. Also, they asked me to wait to bring him, so the waiting side won out.)


Today, first class of the day, opening my mouth won out. One of the girls that was sitting in the same row as I was, was complaining about being up since four am.

Since she was complaining loudly, I figured she was talking to anyone within earshot, and offered my two cents.

Which was along the lines of "oh stop freaking whining, you have no idea how cushy you have it."

The discussion continued and it turns out she had a valid reason for being upset, a problem with her roommate, but then proceeded to whine about not being able to get ahold of the Dorm Manager (or whatever they call him, he's not the RA) to try and get a new roommate.

After five minutes of me offering suggestions (she was complaining about it, with the attitude of "oh what do I do?" so I figured she could use some suggestions, like leave a note and have him call her, or call him and ask him when she'd be able to sit down and talk with him,) and her coming up with reasons why none of them would work, ("But he's never there") she gave me a half-joking "When I want your advice, I'll ask for it."

Fantastic, and when I want to hear you complaining about stupid things while I'm trying to do a quick review of the things I read last night in between cleaning my apartment, doing my dishes, going to the grocery store, and doing homework for two other classes, I'll ask you.

What I said was more along the lines of "Keep complaining loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, and I'll keep offering advice."

I was pleasant, I didn't get snide, I started out actually trying to help this girl figure out ways to resolve the problems that she has, and degenerated into really wanting to tell her to suck it up and act like the adult she keeps wanting everyone to treat her as, but I stayed polite.

Mostly, I just wanted to get sarcastic.

Did mommy's widdle babykins not sleep? Poor baby, let's get you a pillow, and then we'll rock you to sleep and sing you a lullaby, and tomorrow you can go home and be mommy's widdle girl again and you won't have to do that nasty college thing anymore.

But then again, maybe I'm just a cranky old lady. Lord knows some of these kids make me wonder if I was ever that young....

Why I love my school...

So today at the barn, after the rousing round of ground cleanup, we had some time left in the class, so the instructors and some of the students hung out in the barn itself, bsing for a while.

One of the second year Horse Training students was talking with the head honcho about a colt that had come back for the second year. Seems that the kid had had the horse for green breaking, and wanted to take him on through cutting.

"Can I, JJ? I really liked that little colt."

"Is it the same colt? I don't think it's the same colt."

"No, it is, I seen him when they brought him in!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm sure! Can I have him again?"

"Well I still don't think it's the same colt. I think he's here for green breaking. Why don't you grab a halter and go down there and throw a leg over him bareback, you could do that with that other colt last year."

And off they went in the little golf cart... A little while later, the kid comes back, walking like something might be a bit sore.

"Yeah, it's the same colt. I don't think he's been ridden all summer though, he gave me a little trouble."

At this point the instructor that went with the kid started choking and snorting in a manner that made me wonder if there wasn't a bit more than "a little trouble" down there at the pens, especially with the kid walking funny.

Alas, our instructors are honest-to-goodness gentlemen, and won't share the good jokes with us girl types, so I can't confirm it, but I think the kid racked himself on the horse's spine.

But, my point is, where else could you be in a "structured learning environment" and have one of your teachers tell you to "run on down there and throw a leg over him"?

I love my school!

Freakin A its hot...

I'm taking a little bit of time to cool down after working out at the barn. We're trying, this week, to get everything done that must be done before the horses get here.

Considering that includes cleaning up all the construction debris, digging a couple of trenches to put in water lines, setting up stalls, pens, and building fence, I don't know if it's all gonna get done.

But, the instructors do have a whole herd of strong backs to do it all, so it may get done after all.

Just a note to the guys: When you're in a group with a whole passel of female types, and they're all working manure forks picking up wood and straw and such, and you're standing against the building in the shade... ya look bad. Sorry, ya do.

Apparently they're having some problems finding enough horses for the EBM students that didn't bring their own, so I volunteered my little sorrel, if he's needed. The surprise on JJ's (JJ is one of my instructors) face when I said I had another one to bring was well worth the price of admission, let me tell you.

"JJ, if you need another one, I can bring another little gelding up. He's not real well behaved and he looks like a freaking pony but he's got four legs and a back."

"But... you're bringing your own, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I can bring another one, if you need it. Just let me know before Sunday, thats when mine's coming up."

"Yeah! That's great! I'll let you know by the end of the week!"

Always good to have the head honcho of your program grateful to you.

FFS people!

Well, Farmmom decided she needed a shampooer for her carpets, with the last of her "extra" pay from working the road. Fine, great, fantabulous. What Farmmom wants, Farmmom gets, when she decides to allow herself the luxury of wanting anything.

They had had one of the kind she wanted at the Wal Mart here so I was gonna pick it up for her and take it home with me.

Just one itty bitty problem with this plan. They didn't have it anymore. Ok whatever, you can get it online and ship it to the store without having to pay the shipping fees.

But wait! We'll call the next Wal Mart down the line and see if they have one, cause Farmmom is wanting to get it and use it like.. now.

So, Farmmom made the call, gave the "associate" the model number, everything, asked if they had one.

"Yep, sure thing, we got two of 'em."

So, off we go, Farmmom and I, to drive 90 miles to get the durned thing.

Turn up at the store, find the proper aisle after a bit of searching (freaking remodeling, they just got done with the store here,) and head confidently to the section for the deep cleaners.

Only to stand around with puzzled looks on our faces as we slowly realize, they don't have the one she wanted. They do have two of the same brand, but they're like... two steps down from the one she wants.

So, we found an "associate" who first went looking for someone who worked in that area, then came back telling us he couldn't find anyone, stood there staring at the offending carpet cleaners, and proceeded to tell us how it was our fault because we didn't check with management.

Erm. Excuse me? I don't freakin well think so, you snotty little pissant. I didn't drive ninety miles to be insulted by a sanctimonious, overweight stockboy with a bad combover who's probably looking at the dark side of 35, and works in a position so low they don't even give him a shirt with the Wal Mart logo on it.

After it became clear that we weren't going to admit our fault in the matter, apologize profusely for interrupting what was probably a fascinating fantasy about Angelina Jolie, three hundred gallons of sour cream, and an inflatable swimming pool, he trundled off to call for a manager.

Over the PA. Which wouldn't have been so bad except he did it once. And requested that the manager call the extension he was on. And then came back when he didn't get a reply in five seconds.

So we sent Skippy the Sales Droid back to find a manager again, and he repeated his call over the PA to have a manager call the extension he was at. Several times. Good Skippy, gooood sales droid.

He managed to snag someone who actually worked in the department and she came over to see if she could help us out, figured out what the problem was, found a phone, and requested over the PA the manager come to us for "customer courtesy."

Gee whiz, they've got that here?

Get the manager there and he makes sure he knows what's going on, leads us over to electronics to check the website and get the exact model number of what we want, and we find out... They don't even have them in the stores! You have to order them online.

Fine, whatever, but can we just pay for it here?

"Why certainly ma'am, just get a gift card and enter the information just like you would at home."

So, we did, while Manager Man went and got us a $25 gift card for the expense of the gas to drive up there and back.

Should be in in about a week, pick it up at the store here and it's all good to go.

Farmmom gave me the card to get some new pants, I found some, and off we went.

Final evaluations?

Skippy the Sales Droid: Can the attitude, buddy, or next time you sneer at someone for expecting you people to, oh, I don't know, do your jobs, they might decide to pop one of them nifty shock collars that were on the next aisle over out of the box and field-test it.

Sales Lady: Hey! An effective, helpful, pleasant salesperson with a sincere apology for the inconvenience caused by the incompetence of your co-worker! What a novelty! Judging by the quickness with which you dredged up a name to jog Farmmom's memory with, this isn't the first example of this person's ship-shod attention to detail you've witnessed.

Manager Man: You were up front, helpful, and provided us with compensation for our troubles. Thank you. But please, post a sign somewhere that says "You must say that you are angry about something that is our fault at least four times before we try to make it up to you." It'll save everyone a lot of trouble.

Picture

I've gotten a couple of questions about why I haven't posted a picture here. Part of it is for privacy reasons. But a big chunk of it is simply that I absolutely hate about 96-98% of pictures of myself.

Weird thing though? I like playing around with the self-timer on my digital camera. So, since I got one today out of sheer boredom that wasn't too bad, kinda showed my personality a little, and still pretty much protected my sooper secret identity... *snicker*.... (Hey, if I can't laugh at myself, then who can I laugh at?) I thought I'd go ahead a share with ya'll.










Let the twig jokes begin!

Have I mentioned that I'm a big fan of pajama pants and "wifebeaters" or "a-shirts" for at-home comfort?

No? Well, now you know.

P.S. Part of the reason this picture is so good at hiding the sooper secret Farmgirl identity is that you will almost never catch me with my hair down, especially outside. Ponytail or cheater bun (pull the hair up in a pony tail and then use the last wrap of the elastic band to create a "bun") is pretty much the order of the... well... always.