I wish you hadn't asked me that.

I hate answering questions for people.

Because then other people feel the need to answer the questions too.

And I think the other people are wrong.

And then another murder gets tacked onto my rap sheet.

Which invites more questions.

It's a vicious cycle.

Stupid ducks

There are days when I feel that I am on top of everything. My cute yellow ducks are lined up in a nice neat circle, paddling like mad under the surface, all headed the appropriate direction. That was yesterday. Then there are days when my ducks have lost the ability to stay in line - some are flying away, some are paddling off, and a couple are drowning. That was more today.

I requested an official copy of my transcript for my application. For the privilege of looking at the grades I earned in classes I had to pay for, I was charged ten American dollars. The registrar office sent out the official grades on fancy blue paper. Unbeknownst to me, I needed it on plain white paper. Now I have to pay another ten American dollars so an undergraduate in a work study program can hit the print key in the registrar's office and give me a copy on white paper - the color of paper one normally would print upon.

A few minutes after I received this notice, I headed out for class. My professor told us yesterday that we had the option of taking the class on 'campus 2' via live video stream. I thought this was awesome news since campus 2 is much closer to my house. It's about a twenty minute walk to the building on campus 2, but it was a beautiful day. I walked. The classroom was suspiciously empty when I arrived, but I was a few minutes early. I emailed my professor to thank him for the option. He wrote back three minutes before class was supposed to start.

"Oh, I have bad news. I canceled that classroom this morning. Sorry. Can you make it to campus 1?"

No, I cannot bloody well make it to campus 1! I have a twenty minute walk to my house to get my car, a ten minute drive to campus, and at least ten minutes to find parking, pay for parking, and get to the classroom. The class is only an hour long! Are you serious, Mr. Professor? Could you not have sent out an email when you decided this?

I dislike you Mr. Professor.

I remembered the inter-campus bus and started running. Breathless, glistening (because girls should avoid sweating, or at least calling it sweating), and late, I flagged him down. I snuck into the classroom on campus 1 twenty minutes later. Slid into a seat, flipped open my laptop, and looked up at the prof and screens ... only to see three students on live video feed in the campus 2 classroom.

I really dislike you Mr. Professor.

Murder, She Thought

We were driving to the dog park today and noticed a car parked in a lot in the side of the road. It was an eighties model Chevy car, bronze, fringe in the windshield. A couple of nervous looking guys were inside. Another man was attempting to shut the enormous trunk with little success.

He slammed it once, twice. It bounced back open. He pulled out some twine and started tying it shut.

I said, "You know it's easier to do that if you chop up the body," as we drove past.

DH looked at me in horror. "How is it that you go straight to murdered body in trunk? What is wrong with you that your first thought is murdered body? I was thinking drugs or moving or broken latch. Seriously?"

The man poses a good question.

I am open to good answers.

I assume it is a combination of my dark and rather dry sense of humor (Is there a wet sense of humor, by the way? Shouldn't it exist as a counterpoint? Is it the same as a sophomoric sense of humor?) plus my over exposure to the worse side of humanity.

That's what I'm sticking with anyway. It has nothing at all to do with personal experience. I swear I only rented the woodchipper for limb disposal.