I hate to be rude, but something ironic struck me on the front page of my university's website. There was a picture of our University President standing regally at a pulpit in a church (this is not my issue) and the caption said something like President Gordon will talk to congregants at a church in Norwalk (also not my issue) to encourage early planning for college.
It made me feel like I go to school at Studio 54. Please don't tell more people to come here! It's freaking packed. It's hard to park for night classes and the buildings are falling apart. Please don't tell more people that college is awesome - they know it's awesome and there are a million people here already!
It got me thinking about how weird it is to market something people already like, like Coke. Coke spends probably millions, maybe more, on advertising every year but people already like them. The thing that's different about Coke though is that if more people like them and buy their product, the can decide to spend more on ads, they can expand. CSUF CAN'T expand. There is no more cash to throw at this problem so please, I beg of you, stop telling people that college is awesome.
Last night we talked with other students who were further along in the program than my cohort and it sounds like we got here at the right time. They regaled us with stories about that one summer when all classes were cancelled and how they can't get the classes they want and end up having to stay on for extra YEARS waiting for the class to come around again. All the newbs just sat there feeling awkward. At the end of the discussion I raised my hand and said "You have heard quite a bit from the students who are well into the program but many of us in this section have remained quiet...we are new and perhaps feel like we don't have enough perspective to offer our opinions but we've gotten the classes we want and are actually quite happy..." Afterwards, everyone kept telling me "Thanks for sticking up for us, Jess!" Just call me Jessica Chavez.
We reported back to our professor the big kids were mean and intimidating. One person from my program asked if "bitter" was a requirement to enter the program previously. Such unhappy kittens!
Earlier in the day when we were speaking as a captive audience about the program we talked a little bit about wishing there was a nonprofit concentration. This one dude who's been in the program a longer time attacked me after lunch asking "what exactly will you get from a nonprofit concentration that you can't get from the other concentrations?" When I said, well, off the top of my head, the title but I needed time to really consider how to answer that question he gawked at me and said "Well...I'll be speaking with DR. Hanson about this!" Also, please note, Dr. Hanson is not a doctor. This guy was just a kiss-ass.
He's in the program and about to graduate, what does he care what I want? How does that affect him? Is he jealous about the prospect of someone getting what they want after a seemingly uphill battle in his time in the program? Jesus. I just like nonprofits and I don't like Criminal Justice, Finance and HR. I might take Urban Management but it sounds like there are a lot of GIS classes and that scares me.
All I know is that I got an A on my first semester paper and I'm not one to roll over so stay tuned for the moment when I announce they're offering a nonprofit concentration :)
Friday, February 25, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Dino tooth!
It's only Monday night and this week is already shaping up to be funny. In one day I've laughed so hard I cried TWICE.
As you're aware, I'm now forced to try and whisper whenever I take a phone call at work on account of you-know-who so today when my mom called I was literally laughing so hard I was crying but not making any noise. Dad is getting better but taking cough syrup with Codeine and, well, Dad isn't good at drugs. He sorta freaks out. Last night my mom said that he sat straight up, in the middle of the night, and starting feeling around the bed for something. When my mom asked what it was he answered: "I'm looking for my dinosaur tooth!" Comedy. I can picture my mom, exhausted, sick, confused, and laughing so hard she's having to hold her belly.
I cried from laughing a second time tonight when, in bed working on a big project due in a couple weeks, Todd got into bed next to me with a piece of re-heated pizza. It was dead quiet in the room except for the sound of me typing and the sound of him pushing the pizza around its little takeout box a million times. Todd is a patient man in all realms of life except food. If he makes something to eat, he wants it now if not sooner so this little noise of him pushing the pizza around the box, impatiently waiting for it to cool enough to put in his bear trap just caught me off guard and made me laugh really hard. Even more funny: half of the damn pizza was cold so he could have eaten it much sooner than he had.
I laughed with my boss today, with coworkers, at lunch with Laura, at dinner with friends, and at home with my sweetheart. I feel like a lucky woman to be able to laugh so much.
As you're aware, I'm now forced to try and whisper whenever I take a phone call at work on account of you-know-who so today when my mom called I was literally laughing so hard I was crying but not making any noise. Dad is getting better but taking cough syrup with Codeine and, well, Dad isn't good at drugs. He sorta freaks out. Last night my mom said that he sat straight up, in the middle of the night, and starting feeling around the bed for something. When my mom asked what it was he answered: "I'm looking for my dinosaur tooth!" Comedy. I can picture my mom, exhausted, sick, confused, and laughing so hard she's having to hold her belly.
I cried from laughing a second time tonight when, in bed working on a big project due in a couple weeks, Todd got into bed next to me with a piece of re-heated pizza. It was dead quiet in the room except for the sound of me typing and the sound of him pushing the pizza around its little takeout box a million times. Todd is a patient man in all realms of life except food. If he makes something to eat, he wants it now if not sooner so this little noise of him pushing the pizza around the box, impatiently waiting for it to cool enough to put in his bear trap just caught me off guard and made me laugh really hard. Even more funny: half of the damn pizza was cold so he could have eaten it much sooner than he had.
I laughed with my boss today, with coworkers, at lunch with Laura, at dinner with friends, and at home with my sweetheart. I feel like a lucky woman to be able to laugh so much.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Magazine Chicken
I've opened this blog about 100 times in the last twenty-four hours but I couldn't figure out what I could say until I got some good news.
Yesterday my dad was feeling sick and my mom took him to the walk-in. They were told he had pneumonia and potentially a blood clot in his lungs and told him he needed to go to the emergency room. After 8 hours in the ER, dad was admitted. It's been up and down -pneumonia, no pnemonia, no blood clot, infections, no infection, heart murmur, no heart murmur and so on and so forth, as we got info from the hospital staff. Suffice to say, they concluded it was viral bronchitis and sent the old man home with antibiotics this afternoon.
After talking to my mom at 7am this morning, she told me the doctor would be in around 11am our time to give a clearer diagnosis so I did busy work until I couldn't stand it anymore and I called the hospital. My dad picked up and this is the conversation we had:
Dad: Hello?
Me: Dad! You answered! You sound really good!
Dad: Ya, I feel better...I wish you could see what they delivered for lunch...
Me: What is it?
Dad: It's the whitest chicken I've ever seen...it smells weird....like magazines.
[sound of my mother laughing hysterically in the background]
Me: It smells like magazines?
Dad: Ya...I told that nurse, I want a grilled ham and cheese!
Somehow, my dad always gets the hookups. Ever since I was little I remember my dad wheeling and dealing and bringing home things for free (please recall the toilet paper he brought home that I "decorated" his office with). And even now when he's sick, he's able to convince nurses to bring him treats.
I talked to my mom a little after that, she was still laughing. Apparently the nurse brought her a chef salad to eat while my dad enjoyed his grilled ham and cheese. Unfortunately they just delivered another platter of white magazine-flavored chicken. Poor dad.
They are on their way home now. I do not come from a patient people so I can just see them panicked, trying to flag nurses down to get the hell out of there. I just have this mental picture of dad in a hospital gown and cowboy boots, ready to book it!
So, here's to my pops, love you and I'm glad you're feeling better and on your way home!
Yesterday my dad was feeling sick and my mom took him to the walk-in. They were told he had pneumonia and potentially a blood clot in his lungs and told him he needed to go to the emergency room. After 8 hours in the ER, dad was admitted. It's been up and down -pneumonia, no pnemonia, no blood clot, infections, no infection, heart murmur, no heart murmur and so on and so forth, as we got info from the hospital staff. Suffice to say, they concluded it was viral bronchitis and sent the old man home with antibiotics this afternoon.
After talking to my mom at 7am this morning, she told me the doctor would be in around 11am our time to give a clearer diagnosis so I did busy work until I couldn't stand it anymore and I called the hospital. My dad picked up and this is the conversation we had:
Dad: Hello?
Me: Dad! You answered! You sound really good!
Dad: Ya, I feel better...I wish you could see what they delivered for lunch...
Me: What is it?
Dad: It's the whitest chicken I've ever seen...it smells weird....like magazines.
[sound of my mother laughing hysterically in the background]
Me: It smells like magazines?
Dad: Ya...I told that nurse, I want a grilled ham and cheese!
Somehow, my dad always gets the hookups. Ever since I was little I remember my dad wheeling and dealing and bringing home things for free (please recall the toilet paper he brought home that I "decorated" his office with). And even now when he's sick, he's able to convince nurses to bring him treats.
I talked to my mom a little after that, she was still laughing. Apparently the nurse brought her a chef salad to eat while my dad enjoyed his grilled ham and cheese. Unfortunately they just delivered another platter of white magazine-flavored chicken. Poor dad.
They are on their way home now. I do not come from a patient people so I can just see them panicked, trying to flag nurses down to get the hell out of there. I just have this mental picture of dad in a hospital gown and cowboy boots, ready to book it!
So, here's to my pops, love you and I'm glad you're feeling better and on your way home!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Picasso maybe?
I was sick for a full week but am finally back in the land of the living. Good lord, so much sickness. I missed an entire week of work and school and spent a lot of quality time with the cats - they don't mind when I'm sick.
So, I finally felt better on Friday night and we walked to get dinner which meant WAY over-doing-it and getting in bed at 7pm. Saturday, again, a little better. Saturday night we drove to Mangia Bene in south county to celebrate my brother-in-law's acceptance as a JAG for the National Guard. We are SUPER proud.
On the way back from dinner, Todd realized he needed gas so we of course had to do this major trek to find the exact gas station that he wanted. You see, he is a car control freak and has to fill up his car at the same stations all the time to ensure that his data is tracked properly. What data, you ask? The data he inputs into an online database that calculates his fuel economy for the car, of course!
So we stop at one of his "approved" stations and the light of good fortune shines upon me. There, across the gas station as I sit waiting for Todd to pump gas, is a masterpiece. Perched atop the gas station's trash bin is this little beauty:
So, I finally felt better on Friday night and we walked to get dinner which meant WAY over-doing-it and getting in bed at 7pm. Saturday, again, a little better. Saturday night we drove to Mangia Bene in south county to celebrate my brother-in-law's acceptance as a JAG for the National Guard. We are SUPER proud.
On the way back from dinner, Todd realized he needed gas so we of course had to do this major trek to find the exact gas station that he wanted. You see, he is a car control freak and has to fill up his car at the same stations all the time to ensure that his data is tracked properly. What data, you ask? The data he inputs into an online database that calculates his fuel economy for the car, of course!
So we stop at one of his "approved" stations and the light of good fortune shines upon me. There, across the gas station as I sit waiting for Todd to pump gas, is a masterpiece. Perched atop the gas station's trash bin is this little beauty:
I saw it and asked Todd to grab it and he wouldn't because it's sorta pervy, right? So I threw trash out and then snagged it (I have a habit of stealing public art, but more on that later). It smelled like someone spilled a little coffee on it and it made me picture this family who'd picked it up at an auction who decided to trash it when they spilled the coffee on it but left it displayed at the Chevron on Alton, just in case someone with an eye for art wanted it. I know what you're thinking, 'who's birthday is next?' because you desperately wish you were the owner of this little piece of heaven.
You are looking at a ceramic tile that is approximately 12x8. There are three naked ladies with snakes coming from their hair and a creepy woman haunting them with her hang-y boobs. In the right of the ceramic, there is a large black spaghetti squash which I'm assuming that's where these ladies came from. Behind the boob lady are three ghostly haunts and one man peeks from behind the background in the upper-right of the ceramic.
I am going to ask my mom if she'll go with me to Antiques Roadshow because I totally need a tempurpedic bed and have no emotional attachment to this thing. It's not signed but it has to be a lost Picasso or something? Perhaps from his lesser-known awkward nude period?
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Little Princess I-Can't-Share
I have a new "neighbor" at work who sits in what I like to call "the convertible cube" across from me. A first impression would lead you to believe she is a sweet lady, like a nice grandma who bakes and tells stories. She sells Mary Kay in her free time and likes to decorate for every holiday, bringing cheer to the department.
But lurking just below this angelic shell is a poisonous core - be not fooled!
One day someone was having computer issues and, temporarily and at the prompting of the department manager, they sat at her desk. Now, she is a temporary, part-time employee, but anyone within earshot would have sworn the CEO had been asked to move her office to the women's restroom. After receiving the verbal beating of a lifetime, the employee slunk back to her desk away from Princess I-Can't-Share.
A friend once told me that this person, let's call her Margaret, berated her for being a smoker. I'm not personally big on smoke, it gives me a headache, but whatever, to each his own. My friend, upon returning from a cigarette break had this exchange:
Margaret: Was that you smoking outside?
Friend: Ya....
Margaret: Oh. Well do you have a boyfriend?
Friend: Yes...?
Margaret: Well why don't you ask him how he likes kissing an ashtray!!!!!!
Other words have been exchanged, I've heard her launch character attacks on supervisors, patronize clients and sass like nobody's business but what we all came in to this morning was confusing on a new level.
On the top of an unused portion of her desk sits a tiny wicker table with two tiny wicker chairs. Atop the tiny table is, to my best guess, a 1980s-era Cabbage Patch Kids plastic tea set.
Everyone in the department is freaked out. We all keep asking when the teddy bears will come. I'm worried they are just ghost teddy bears and they're staring at me all day.
But lurking just below this angelic shell is a poisonous core - be not fooled!
One day someone was having computer issues and, temporarily and at the prompting of the department manager, they sat at her desk. Now, she is a temporary, part-time employee, but anyone within earshot would have sworn the CEO had been asked to move her office to the women's restroom. After receiving the verbal beating of a lifetime, the employee slunk back to her desk away from Princess I-Can't-Share.
A friend once told me that this person, let's call her Margaret, berated her for being a smoker. I'm not personally big on smoke, it gives me a headache, but whatever, to each his own. My friend, upon returning from a cigarette break had this exchange:
Margaret: Was that you smoking outside?
Friend: Ya....
Margaret: Oh. Well do you have a boyfriend?
Friend: Yes...?
Margaret: Well why don't you ask him how he likes kissing an ashtray!!!!!!
Other words have been exchanged, I've heard her launch character attacks on supervisors, patronize clients and sass like nobody's business but what we all came in to this morning was confusing on a new level.
On the top of an unused portion of her desk sits a tiny wicker table with two tiny wicker chairs. Atop the tiny table is, to my best guess, a 1980s-era Cabbage Patch Kids plastic tea set.
Everyone in the department is freaked out. We all keep asking when the teddy bears will come. I'm worried they are just ghost teddy bears and they're staring at me all day.
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