Birth Plan

No one is having children in this country.

Me: We’re taking that uterus back to Canada
Jen: It’s not a You-terus, it’s a Me-terus.

Know the Rules, DAMNIT

There are two very simple rules to PhD Etiquette. 

 

The first applies to normal, sane people (non-PhDs):

Never ask about the PhD!

The reasoning behind it is very simple. 1) You will stress that PhD person out. They don’t want to be thinking about that shit. It’s bad enough they need to talk to their advisors about it under controlled and preplanned conditions (nothing worse than bumping into an advisor unexpectedly) let alone with your rude, unthinking ass. 2) They might just tell you about it, and then you’ll be sorry.

 

The second applies to the socially stunted morons (the PhD students):

Never talk about your PhD!

Nobody wants to hear about cockroach races in 17th century Madagascar and what it meant for socially constructed ideas of the self in the semi-nomadic agricultural community. Your supervisor doesn’t want to know, why do you think they only meet with you once every few months? Your fellow PhDs sure as hell don’t want to hear about it. If you’re at a party and you start talking about it to another PhD, haven’t you ever wondered why they start drinking alcohol faster than their liver can filter that shit? You have done two things to this person 1) bored them into insensibility/alcoholism 2) made them think about their own work which makes them want to find out if the balcony is high enough so that the fall will kill them, or at least maim them enough so they won’t have to hand in that chapter they were supposed to have done a month ago but is still only in the planning stage.

 

Follow these rules and you can have a (basically) normal conversation with someone who is voluntarily pissing away the best years of their lives. 

Epic Fail

Landlord: How are things going?

Me: Oh, same as always, busy.

Landlord: Are you ever going to be finished?

*Bludgeons self to death with cafeteria tray*

Notes from the Underground

Dear Gaggle of Women Who Look Like Victoria Beckham in Kensington,

While I applaud the fact that you are not having the nanny drop your children off at school I think that said nanny would be dressed more appropriately. Forget the fact that it is November and your bare thighs and calves are hardly giving your children the best example of cold and flu prevention. I bet you don’t wash your hands either. Nor are those 4 inch heels going to allow you to chase after above mentioned children if they run ahead or, God forbid, out into the street. However, my major complaint is that when your skirt is so high that your 7 year old can see up it you need to do something about it. Since the child will not grow that quickly, even during a growth spurt, I suggest you investigate lower hemlines.

Thank you,

A Concerned Citizen

2:30-3:30

Mark is cradling his Obama foam finger.

McCain: the audacity of failure.

I think Barack just won the fucking election. <- 2:43am

BREAKING NEWS: Jen has just said that she no longer knows anything.

“You know what’s fascinating Anderson? You have a last name for a first name.”

“There are only two genders, how diverse can it be?”  ”Have you seen the Republican All Boys Choir?”

“If they got Texas, I will shit on this couch.” “You will not shit on this couch!…Unless it’s like, not deliberate.”

The GOP says it be over.

John Bolton is telling the BBC to fire their reporters cause the Republicans are losing.

“SUUURRGE. Iraq is just such a civil fucking society it’s amazing.”

John Bolton is taking on Twitchy. And I think Twitchy might just be drunk.

Hysteria has clearly set in. Mark is giggling about fart’s fuck and Jen now knows everything again.

1:30-2:30

“You get the headbands, I’ll get the mirror.”

“Don’t forget – YOU call the election.”

CNN is the new Star Trek: It has time travel and holograms.

“Where did the time fly?”
“Into the Bourbon.”

12:30-1:30

“So many caveats.” 

McCain almost died 4 times: “He’s 50cent for white people.”

“How did Mickey Mouse vote? I bet he’s a fascist.”

Axelrod has a hell of a comb-over

“If he wins will they have to paint it? The black house?”