Get Behind Me

Point one: There is no way I can possibly get Girl Scout cookies, because I am physically incapable of not eating thin mints in a box-at-a-time fashion.

Point two: I appreciate that parents are important in the Girl Scout organization, but I have yet to actually see any Girl Scouts selling cookies - I've only seen parents. That is, unless it's become Middle Age Man and Woman Scouts.

Unngh?

Holy poop.

Is it the weekend yet? I am completely wiped out. No blogging, no blog reading - nuttin'

I'm finally done with my day (at 6pm on a Friday, mind you), and I'm not going running. I'm going home and I'm going to collapse.

I'm not even going to really enjoy the weekend either because I've got to get ahead on my work because papers to grade are going to start pouring in again next week. Oh, fun thing about loosing weight - I need to buy new pants. It's another weekend task! It's a good thing I get paid the big bucks.

Speaking of big bucks, let's hear it for the department! They've come up with cash to help all of up grad-folk get up to MonsterConference in a few weeks.

Ok. That's about all I've got. I leave you with things that Overread might call someone:

Rockstar (or alternately 'Hero) ex - "He's the rockstar of Gruub Studies - everyone wants to work with him."
Freakshow ex - "Her new boyfriend is a real freakshow. He calls every hour to see where she is."
Timesink ex. - "I can't go into the office, the timesink is in there. If I go in there, I won't get out for hours."

8.36km - 39'49"

The Best Choose Your Own Adventure Ever.

I loved Choose You Own Adventure books - Something Awful has more of these right here - warning that some things there are, um... a bit tasteless.

Dream

drunk guy comes out of bar, gets in fight, gets knocked out. eventually gets up and staggers off to the parking lot. which is suddenly in the countryside somewhere. As he stumbles over a small fence, my friend (who I don't recognize) says to me, "He'll be on the highway in a couple of minutes." We both shake out heads ruefully. Then he's attacked by squirrels. viciously attacked by squirrels. All the folks from the bar are laughing. Then some TV animal show guy comes over with his wife to announce his retirement. He kind of tries to save the guy being attacked by squirrels, but mainly just starts tossing dead (frozen but unplucked?) turkeys over the fence.

Guilt Within Pleasure Volume II

I just got word that a second university - (Gorgeous, Good and Specialty University - GGSU) is offering me admission. I'm really so excited, but. It's a very good school with some great people that I would love to work with, but. It's in a drop-dead gorgeous area, but. It would be slightly closer to some of my family than the other school that has accepted me, but. They even sound a little more apt to fund me, but.

but.

Another grad here also applied to GGSU. I think she applied to the same department as I did. She would fit in very well with the faculty specialty there, and she didn't apply to many schools - GGSU was her best shot. She's said that if she doesn't get in anywhere, she may just going to drop out with her MA and run off and do 'whatever.'

So, if I got in, it would be very very implausible that she got in too.

I'm left with the most fortunate of problems. I've already got two very good options (and four more schools to hear from), but barring very big funding questions, I'm leaning toward not going to GGSU.

She may not get in anywhere. What if she doesn't get in, and I turn down a chance to go to the school where she wanted to go? Guilt. My friend who was in the office when I got the email said I really should be Jewish or Catholic. I can find guilt anywhere. Then again, she thinks I should be gay too, and that ain't happening. Actually I think it's more the whole Puritan 'It's not moral to enjoy good things' idea.

but.

I still squealed like a little girl when I got the email. They like me! They really like me!

After Me, The Deluge

When it rains and I bike, something always gets wet. I could wrap my entire body and everything in my backpack with cling wrap, and I swear something would still get wet. I've learned to deal with acceptable dampness. For example, I long ago gave up trying to keep my pants dry (let's see how many googlers that phrase brings in).

Last night's casualty was part of a book. Note, my backpack is pretty well lined with plastic bags for protection. Nothing else in the backpack was wet - not even the other book that was right next to doomed one.

It's not a total loss, it's just a little wiggly on the edges, but still enough to make me sad.

Oh, and my pants - drenched. Shoes, socks, pants, underwear - drenched. Aren't I glad I just did laundry?

I Love a Rainy Run

8.87km - 39'34"

I haven't been on the treadmill in a while, but the horizontal train that's whirring about suggested that running around in the mud and muck might not be the best idea, so there I went. I know remember the bonus of treadmill running - I can set the pace at 8mph (later 8.5mph) and just zone out and listen to my audiobook while my body just trundles along. Trundle trundle. I don't think I could keep that pace in the wild (treadmills are also nice and flat unless you get them all riled up), but it's nice to get a decently long run in in a decently quick pace. Yea!

I also did one third of the army pushup and situp routine. It's inconceivable that I used to be able to do all that. Inconceivable - and I'm not even Sicilian.

Returned to the Cafe

I'm very jealous. I'm working on real work-stuff and the guy next to me is conquering Europe on his laptop. He was having some trouble in Russia I think. Then again, doesn't everyone?