Me Punching People

It’s been a while since I’ve written blah blah blah.  Whatever.  School started and has been kicking my ass since August.  My ass hurts.

So, here’s the juice: Today, while waiting in the hallway for my Spanish Lit class to start, I was talking to a few of my classmates.  Both nice girls, about 19 or so, Spanish Education majors, and they seem to be educated and regularly contribute to class, so… they seemed cool is what I’m trying to say. 

However, today, in the hallway, Girl 1 asked me if Spanish was my major.  I told her it was my second major and that English was my first.  She then told me that her brother is considering changing his major to English and their parents are really worried.  I’m in the middle of telling her that it is extremely common for parents to worry about their English major children when Girl 2 interrupts:

“Well, doesn’t the English major prepare you for, like, secretarial work?” 

That was her contribution to the conversation.  And, this is why parents worry about their kids choosing to be English Majors.  They don’t believe that there are any other opportunities other than secretarial work or teaching (that’s not even English majors, that’s Education majors).  Now, as a side note, there is nothing wrong with secretarial work and I’m sure I’d be happy to secure a secretarial job after graduation, especially with the economy and the job market being the way they are right now.  However, Girl 2’s tone in addition to the content of her assertion truly pissed me off. 

What did I do?  I punched her in the face.  Then I corrected her grammar.

Okay, so maybe I didn’t punch her.  I did deadpan her, though.  Then I replied, “Well, that’s what the mean side of my family says to me about my major, but it’s not true.  Especially since for a lot of secretarial work, a college degree is unnecessary.  It would be unfortunate to spend all this money to go to school to get a job that may have been available to me pre-college.” 

This response may be a little better worded than what I said in the moment, but you get the idea.  Plus, you weren’t there...you’ll never know.  In fact, I didn’t even say any of that.  I just punched her in the face.

After she recovered from my mean right hook, she said, “Oh, I guess that’s not right.  No.”  I’m assuming she was referencing her earlier assumption. 

Girl 1 jumped back in and asked me what her brother should do if he’s an English major and also if I was planning on going to graduate school.  Another classmate walked up and they both turn and talk to her in the middle of me answering Girl 1’s questions.  About 3 minutes later, Girl 2, whose black eye was starting to show, turned to me and said, “Ok, you can finish telling us about your major and grad school now.”

Oh really, skank?  I have your permission to continue talking to you?  Thank you so much. 

I punched her again. 

That’s it.  That was my day today.  It was a good day and inspired me to write this post.  Normally, I’m not this violent (even though I punch people in real life and in my dreams), but sometimes life just calls for it, ya know?

Upcoming news:  Me, the hubs, 2 groomsmen, and a best friend are all going to the Rally to Restore Sanity on October 30, 2010, in D.C.  It’s so fucking exciting.  Though I feel I may be a little too crazy to attend, I’ll try to tone it down a notch that day.  I’ll post pictures (hopefully) after we come back.   

It's Shark Week, y'all.

Seriously.  It's Shark Week.  The one time every year that I'm thankful I have cable.  I just lay back, pop my feet up on the coffee table (sharks might get my toes if they're not off the floor), and turn on the Discovery Channel.

Wait, what's that?  I don't have cable anymore?

Shit.

Anyone want to lend me a cable subscription for the next week?

You know, Shark Week is THE REASON I named this blog what I named this blog, in case you didn't know.  Have you ever seen the show "Air Jaws"?  No?  What about "Air Jaws 2" (Electric Boogaloo - as the hubs would add)?  No?  Well, last night "Ultimate Air Jaws" aired as the opener to Shark Week, and you know what?  Sharks can jump, people.  Like, they can fucking jump.  Whoever said white sharks can't jump was crazy.  I've seen them do it.  Unfortunately, I've only seen them do it on the first and second "Air Jaws."  I need to see the ULTIMATE, people.

This is the time when I wish I actually had friends.  Only if they had cable.  And only if they'd let me watch Shark Week without trying to talk to me through all the best parts.  And only if they wouldn't try to be my friend after Shark Week.  Look, imaginary friends, I just don't have time for you, okay?  All I need is a Shark Week fix, and that's it.  I don't want to be your go-to person when you're having a bad day.  Honestly, I probably won't pick up the phone.  I have about 4 people I pick up the phone for, and my Shark Week dealer will not be added to that list.  I'm sorry.

Any takers??

Fireworks

The Hubs and I enjoyed our first July 4th in our new city. I brought my fancy shmancy camera and set up a tripod with a remote. Here's a few pics from the night. It was a blast.

Mother Puncher

“Somebody betta' come get this baby.” Then I punched her. Not the baby. I punched the woman that had been holding the baby before somebody came and got it. I punched her good. Then she was on the ground, and I hit her again. It was in slow-motion but I definitely made contact.

This was only part of my dream. Usually when I dream-beat-the-crap-outta-people I’m in super slo-mo and I can’t actually hurt them. Unfortunately for the lady last night, this was not the case.

Why am I beating up unsuspecting mothers, you ask? Well, she was judging me. Throughout the entire dream, this woman was in the background making tsk-tsks, scoffing, and commenting under her breath. I couldn’t take it anymore. Obviously, like in any dream, this woman represented a few different people in my life. Over the weekend I had a few intense encounters with some of the judgmental superstars in my life. Then I went to sleep and took care of it. I love dreams for that reason.

Does dreaming about resolving the problem help me to deal better? (And yes, I’m saying that punching a mother is a resolution.) I don’t know. It feels like an outlet of sorts. However, I’m not dealing with the problem in real life. The judgmental superstars have no idea I’m dreaming about beating them to a pulp. I have yet to confront them. And I struggle often with the idea of confronting these people or trying to let go of their control over my feelings. If I didn’t let them affect me so much, it wouldn’t matter that they judge me.

All I truly know is, “Somebody betta' come get this baby.”