Mike D farts
After class I went to work out. I've been trying to increase the length and intensity, so after 45 minutes, I was a sodden individual. I was aware of not moving my head too much lest I fling sweat and become That Disgusting Gym Person.
Despite those precautions, I came close. I went to shower and realized that somehow when I took dirty gym clothes out the previous night, I also took out soap, shampoo, and my comb. I considered going to get more toiletries but feared appearing on People of Walmart looking like a drowned rat. I ended up getting a few handfuls of soap from the dispenser and thanking fate the shower room was otherwise empty. My hair did not look its best after the hand soap wash and finger-comb, but it has definitely looked worse (hi, decade of the eighties!)
***
My next adventure came in Financial Aid. I stopped by to sign a form, and the guy helping me looked at my information and frowned.
"Is this your second master's degree?"
"Uh, no. First semester of the first."
". . . that's wrong. Wait here."
He disappeared, leaving me wide-eyed and immediately going to Bad Places in my head. Five minutes later, when he returned, I was on the verge of throwing myself on his mercy and sobbing that I was two years away from making any kind of money and I was working at freaking K-Mart and did I mention my sweet little angel child and please don't make me pay back financial aid now . . .
"Sorry to keep you waiting; I wanted to run this by a few people. We made a mistake with your award last spring."
Twitch, twitch on my end.
"Your status was incorrect and you should have received a grant. I don't know how much but we'll find out . . . "
Twitch, blink, blink --
"Wait, I might receive money?"
"Like I said, I don't know how much--"
"But I don't have to pay you back right now?"
"Uh . . . no."
"OKAY THEN!"
***
Later I saw my friend M. at WalMart. I squealed without shame and hugged her, and we talked for a few minutes. M. graduated last spring, so I don't see her very often and I miss her tremendously. We made plans for me to have dinner with her and her girlfriend next week, so I have a social life and everything, like a real grown-up person.
***
Crash and I have been listening to the Beastie Boys (because I am such an awesome parent.) I think I've reached the pinnacle of my parenting career: he has been making up new lyrics to Brass Monkey, all about farting. I would transcribe them but the only bits I can make out from the hysterical giggling are: Mike D FARTS! Yo baby I farted! and FART FUNKY THAT FUNKY FARTY.
I'm just verklempt with pride over here.
Despite those precautions, I came close. I went to shower and realized that somehow when I took dirty gym clothes out the previous night, I also took out soap, shampoo, and my comb. I considered going to get more toiletries but feared appearing on People of Walmart looking like a drowned rat. I ended up getting a few handfuls of soap from the dispenser and thanking fate the shower room was otherwise empty. My hair did not look its best after the hand soap wash and finger-comb, but it has definitely looked worse (hi, decade of the eighties!)
***
My next adventure came in Financial Aid. I stopped by to sign a form, and the guy helping me looked at my information and frowned.
"Is this your second master's degree?"
"Uh, no. First semester of the first."
". . . that's wrong. Wait here."
He disappeared, leaving me wide-eyed and immediately going to Bad Places in my head. Five minutes later, when he returned, I was on the verge of throwing myself on his mercy and sobbing that I was two years away from making any kind of money and I was working at freaking K-Mart and did I mention my sweet little angel child and please don't make me pay back financial aid now . . .
"Sorry to keep you waiting; I wanted to run this by a few people. We made a mistake with your award last spring."
Twitch, twitch on my end.
"Your status was incorrect and you should have received a grant. I don't know how much but we'll find out . . . "
Twitch, blink, blink --
"Wait, I might receive money?"
"Like I said, I don't know how much--"
"But I don't have to pay you back right now?"
"Uh . . . no."
"OKAY THEN!"
***
Later I saw my friend M. at WalMart. I squealed without shame and hugged her, and we talked for a few minutes. M. graduated last spring, so I don't see her very often and I miss her tremendously. We made plans for me to have dinner with her and her girlfriend next week, so I have a social life and everything, like a real grown-up person.
***
Crash and I have been listening to the Beastie Boys (because I am such an awesome parent.) I think I've reached the pinnacle of my parenting career: he has been making up new lyrics to Brass Monkey, all about farting. I would transcribe them but the only bits I can make out from the hysterical giggling are: Mike D FARTS! Yo baby I farted! and FART FUNKY THAT FUNKY FARTY.
I'm just verklempt with pride over here.