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Steve Likes to Curse
Writing, comics and random thoughts from really a rather vulgar man
My girlfriend is better than yours because . . . 
Monday, February 19th, 2007 | 07:20 pm [college, girlfriend, personal]

My girlfriend is better than yours because . . .


. . . she had today off for Presidents Day and came to college with me so we could spend the whole day together.  It was the shit.  She hung out in the library while I sat through my Biology lecture, then we went to Uno’s for lunch and swung by Borders so we could both spend money we’d have been better off saving.  She got the new Tom Waits set, Orphans, which I’ve only heard a little of but sounds great so far, and I got Vol. 2 of the MST3K DVDs — featuring one of my all-time favorite episodes, fuckin’ Cave Dwellers, ya’ll!


Waiting for class to be over so I could hang out with Ashley made Professor Brown’s lecture drone on even longer than usual.  Biology is a fascinating subject to me, and I’m sure in the right hands it could be just an awesome course.  Ashley told me she almost minored in the subject because of her first-year Biology class.  It’s not that Prof. Brown is completely incompetent, just a smidge on the inept side.  She gives these long, glacial lectures, reading very closely from her notes, supplementing a useless PowerPoint presentation with incessant writing on the board.  You’ve got a chalkboard and you’ve got PowerPoint — I say fucking pick one.  At lunch Ashley was a little surprised we’re still studying biological molecules.  When the clouds part and Christ descends from the Heavens and the end is truly at hand, we’ll still be studying biological molecules.


Another thing Prof. Brown likes to do is give unnecessary examples.  Today they were hyponatremia, hypernatremia, and cystic fibrosis.  All fascinating conditions, all related to cellular diffusion and osmosis, which she had discussed during the lecture, none of which will be found on a single question on our next exam.  I’m no exam Nazi, mind you — I’d never be one of those snide pricks who raises his hand to ask, “Is this gonna be on the test?”  But when you’re as tedious an instructor as Sarah Brown, it’s better to stick to the basics.  Though I was prepared to reevaluate my opinion of her as a teacher and a human being if she mentioned Bob Flanagan during the cystic fibrosis example.


After class and lunch and Borders, we came back here to Ashley’s and watched Cave Dwellers, folded some laundry and ate Frosted Flakes.  I told her that the part of being a teacher I’m looking forward to the most is screaming at the kids.  Or making them all write and share journal entries, then horsewhipping whoever wrote the shittiest one.  It’s a dream of mine.  While I’m writing this, Ash is in the living room brushing our fucking jaw-droppingly adorable cat.  At the risk of triggering a tsunami of ironic misfortune to crash down upon me, drowning my hopes and dreams and leaving me an empty husk of a man with nothing left to hope for but the cool tranquility of the grave, I’d just like to say that I’m totally retarded for my life right now.  And I wouldn’t be without my girl.


Doesn’t reading this make you want to kill yourself?
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