The entry for March, odds are.
By now you're probably thinking it takes a miracle for me to post on LJ, but that's not it at all. It only takes something marvelous for me to post on LJ. And lucky for you, just such a thing recently arrived in my inbox. My Russian friend from Goethe writes: "Rachel!!!! are you good at boys' physiology- ok, at American boys' physiology? I just
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I wanna knoo-oo-oo-oo-oow if you'll be my girl.
HI RACHEL! HOW ARE YOU? I AM COMMENTING FINALLY BECAUSE MY OWN BLOG IS UPDATED AND NOW I CAN SELFISHLY LINK TO IT AS NECESSARY TO ILLUSTRATE THE POINTS I WILL MAKE IN THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPHS.
I could've told you what physiology is. Physiology is the course that made us all cry. It is a little bit biochemistry, a little bit... egg of newt. It has a big green textbook that I will probably sell soon. Would you like to buy it?
Did you have to sleep at Stone Mountain for the company retreat, or did they let you go home at night? Quite frankly I never understood the purpose of taking adults who normally interact with one another in an office-type situation and putting them in a summer-camp-type situation for the purpose of improving their performance in the office-type situation. BUT HEY THAT'S JUST ME. And if you survived a team-building retreat without being fed through one of those mother-fucking nets and dropped on your head because, hey, no one gives a shit (about you), well, that's luck enough.
(In the above sentence, by "you," I mean "me.")
On the subject of "Take me out to the ball-game" and elementary-school faux-musicals, I can still sing our 5th grade version of said song, "Put him back in the White House," because, see, it was the year of Bush 1 versus Clinton, and we were split into teams to support each candidate, and I was for Bush (though I'm pretty sure I wrote something "inappropriate" in a homework assignment that asked us who we were *really* -- as in, in the class election -- going to vote for (Clinton), and had to talk to Mrs. W about it). Ahhh, memories.
(Somewhere in my house, there is a video of me in the summer camp musical "Joseph and the Amazing blah-blah-blah" (I was a brother.) circa 1997. I invite you to go look for it the next time you're mocking my cheerleader photograph.)
"I can't be as enthusiastic about the central goal of long-range planning, not simply because I'm not personally committed to the company, but because there was no explanation of how we could possibly - dependent on our current staffing, resources, and the various laws of time and space - begin, much less carry out, any of the projects we discussed." Heh. Oh, yes. Long-range planning without the messy business of practicalities. SURELY A FINE USE OF EVERYONE'S TIME.
I find that I can handle the expression "think outside the box" a lot better when I remember that box = vagina. And then I laugh. EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I think I stood behind "ominous" last time, but "looming" is also good. "Surveillance" is too obvious, don't you think?
Favorite lines: "I doubt they'll listen to me if they won't listen to gravity" and "like watching a cat throw up in reverse."
HI BUTTERS. HI! HI HI HI. AWWWWW, GOOD BUTTERS.
I have had my own problems with wedding (not mine) dress shopping. I do my *own* shopping, and I don't even know what size I am. Petite clothes are frequently too dowdy, regular clothes are frequently too long. But where the hell are you going that a dress is $19.99? Because... that'd be good.
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