I'm afraid so, Grad...
...grad school, that is.
For those who haven't been victim to my blathering elsewhere, I gathered up my quivering nutsack and enrolled in school. I won't lie: the thought of returning to school after 15 years and amassing a whole new level of student loans gave me a few moments of genuine and spontaneous panic in the days leading up to my first class. Chair cushions may have been ruined in those moments; let's put them by the road and say no more about it.
One class down and ass deep in the second, I've gotta give it Bucky's Fickle Finger of Fuck Yeah!
I'm working toward a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing. The main focuses of the curriculum are writing for movies, animation, and gaming. The pace is a bit insane, since online classes always move faster than their onground counterparts, and I can't remember the last time I wrote this much since I used to remember that I had a blog.
And the best part? When all this is over, I get to wear a cowl. I'm told the assless chaps/grad cowl look is all the rage in Milan. You know me - always fashion forward. Forward into a pair of oversized sweatpants, an "I fling poo" t-shirt, and salmon espadrilles.
In other "I'm so fucking sick of hearing her go on about this shit!" news, I bought a Kinect and now I am obsessed, hooked, jonesing if I'm away too long: I love Dance Central. Probably not enough to marry it, but certainly enough to hump it in the back seat of my parents' Pontiac.
Make no mistake: I'm not a dancer. Even if I think I am when I'm drunk, it ain't so. But it doesn't have to be pretty for this game - your limbs and such have to be doing approximately the right thing, but not exactly, which is good; I'm too old and tubby to defy gravity like the impossibly hot young things you can pick as your dance instructor/guide. Um, not that I think any video game characters are hot, certainly not, because that would be, you know, weird. ahem
No, I'm sure I look like a manatee mime when I'm playing, but here's the prize in your Cracker Jacks: I've lost at least 15 pounds since I started playing in January. I have finally found an exercise where I never miss a workout, I never slack, because I can't wait to get in front of the TV and play the damned thing. Also: a bra is mandatory, especially if my poor sister is around to witness the flappery. I think it's a good rule of thumb that one's breasts should not provide sound effects while exercising. Later, though, after you've polished off the fifth of Jack and you're reaching for the Crisco, all bets are off.
And that's how you start off with a discussion of higher education and wind up with buttsex jokes. I have my own special map, and all roads, circuitous or direct, lead to the gutter.
For those who haven't been victim to my blathering elsewhere, I gathered up my quivering nutsack and enrolled in school. I won't lie: the thought of returning to school after 15 years and amassing a whole new level of student loans gave me a few moments of genuine and spontaneous panic in the days leading up to my first class. Chair cushions may have been ruined in those moments; let's put them by the road and say no more about it.
One class down and ass deep in the second, I've gotta give it Bucky's Fickle Finger of Fuck Yeah!
I'm working toward a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing. The main focuses of the curriculum are writing for movies, animation, and gaming. The pace is a bit insane, since online classes always move faster than their onground counterparts, and I can't remember the last time I wrote this much since I used to remember that I had a blog.
And the best part? When all this is over, I get to wear a cowl. I'm told the assless chaps/grad cowl look is all the rage in Milan. You know me - always fashion forward. Forward into a pair of oversized sweatpants, an "I fling poo" t-shirt, and salmon espadrilles.
In other "I'm so fucking sick of hearing her go on about this shit!" news, I bought a Kinect and now I am obsessed, hooked, jonesing if I'm away too long: I love Dance Central. Probably not enough to marry it, but certainly enough to hump it in the back seat of my parents' Pontiac.
Make no mistake: I'm not a dancer. Even if I think I am when I'm drunk, it ain't so. But it doesn't have to be pretty for this game - your limbs and such have to be doing approximately the right thing, but not exactly, which is good; I'm too old and tubby to defy gravity like the impossibly hot young things you can pick as your dance instructor/guide. Um, not that I think any video game characters are hot, certainly not, because that would be, you know, weird. ahem
No, I'm sure I look like a manatee mime when I'm playing, but here's the prize in your Cracker Jacks: I've lost at least 15 pounds since I started playing in January. I have finally found an exercise where I never miss a workout, I never slack, because I can't wait to get in front of the TV and play the damned thing. Also: a bra is mandatory, especially if my poor sister is around to witness the flappery. I think it's a good rule of thumb that one's breasts should not provide sound effects while exercising. Later, though, after you've polished off the fifth of Jack and you're reaching for the Crisco, all bets are off.
And that's how you start off with a discussion of higher education and wind up with buttsex jokes. I have my own special map, and all roads, circuitous or direct, lead to the gutter.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 3:51 AM
10 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
I. Could. Not. Be. More. Proud. Of. You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First, for how well you are kicking ass in school. And, second, for how well you are kicking your own ass dancing so much.
I haven't seen you in this good a mood in a loooong time. And I love Dance Central, too. Although, I'm not worrying about how hot the dancers are. Just sayin'. :-)
I'm just as proud of you as Squirl. You are my rock god of higher education for us flappers!
Much love to you, and I can hardly wait to celebrate with you at graduation!
Squirl - are you proud of me for wearing a bra, too? Or is that just relief I hear?
Sheryl - My school is in Orlando. That'd make for a helluva graduation party next year when it's still cold up here.
Orlando? Well, that explains the manatee thing I guess.
You are really knocking this life thing outta the park right now, and it's completely inspiring! Perspiring too, evidently... or is that just the Crisco that didn't get wiped off?
Go, Bucky, gooooooooooo!!! I want to hear those bubbies flapping from over here!
And the school thing? Damn, I'm so proud and pleased for you!!!
Dear, dear Katy! I join the applause and pride and joy ..and add my love. hugs and Snoopy dancing!
P.S. ~ burn that damn bra! I, for one, much prefer to gaze at jiggling boobs.
Amazing and inspiring! You ROCK!
Underwear is overrated, but I DO understand the need for a bra while exercising. Nothing gets accomplished when one is knocked unconscious by a flapping boob or two...
Congrats!
You rock it girl, both school and the dance thing. Congratulation on both.
I'm thinking that all that can be said about flapping & jiggling boobs has been said. Well, except for the risk of getting a black eye.
I can't even think of anything clever to say. You are doing what you are meant to do (well, one of the things you're meant to do), and Crisco is definitely the right way to go. (No, for real, you're a born writer, and I'm so happy you're writing.) You have my love, respect, admiration and pride, my sister.
Oh Graaaad!
So, so soooo excited for you! You'll kick ass, I am sure of it!
And I'm even more inspired to get a Kinect. 12 ell-bees is nothing to sneeze at.
You rock!
Post a Comment
<< Home