back to school

i voluntarily signed myself up for school again.

today i went to the campus for a simple prerequisite override and to talk to the VA representative about the GI Bill.

i signed in with advising at 3:50. since there was a whole slew of people in front of me, i walked over to the admissions office to talk to the VA rep. she had left early. what luck.

i went back to advising to wait for my turn. here are some things i witnessed during my two hour wait:

-people (plural) dancing in their chairs when no music was playing,
-people (plural) playing mp3s on their phones aloud as if everyone wanted to hear "because i got high" by afroman,
-a female security guard who walked like she had balls between her legs,
-an old man security guard with a revolver as old as him in his holster,

James Earl Jones, King of Zamunda

-a woman who resembled a frumpy James Earl Jones saying things to the crowd like "let me know if you are still here", as if her speaking to me wasn't enough to let her know i was there?....
-a toddler who was repeatedly hit over the head with a rolled up ad sheet,
-a kid with a bright red mao t-shirt,
-some guy who was so huge i wasn't even as tall as his 'UMC' shoulder tattoo,
-a neon sign above admissions that said "open from 8:00PM til 4:30PM" (i'm not sure what 'til' means, but whatever),
-and many examples of how crack cocaine is one hell of a drug.

the adviser guy stuttered past my first name, as if it gets any more phonetically concise than 'steffany', and just called my last name. this is what happened once i got up there:

"hi, i'm steffany, i just need a prerequisite override done for the "reading proficiency" requirement."
"ok, do you have your paperwork?"
"yep, here's my college diploma."
"um, no, we need proof of at minimum six college credit hours."
"...yep, here's my college diploma."

--awkward silence--

he told me he needed to see my transcripts. i said it stated on the website to just bring in "proof of previous college work, such as a transcript or degree," and that i didn't understand why a "college degree" didn't prove "reading proficiency."

this is where six years of experience came into play. if there's one thing i DID learn in college, it's that when you have an interaction with a neurotic customer service representative who controls your fate in a given situation, you must:

1. be super friendly and cooperative since you are so lucky to have their help,
2. admit fault since you don't know what you're talking about,
3. apologize multiple times for being such a dumb problem for them, and
4. thank them for being so right and for all their time that they wasted on you.

from there, i was done and gone in five minutes. two hours of wait time for a five minute interaction.

i really took having online classes at a Christian university for granted.

the massage, or something

the last three days = taxing. i woke up this morning pretty grumpy, and as i checked my 200 e-mails that come in throughout the night i noticed a groupon for a discounted massage. i decided that sounded like a good idea... i was pretty stressed and i'm in the middle of running a LOT so i'm pretty creaky from all the exercise.

i purchased the groupon, and i looked forward to the massage the entire day. i went into the office, and at some point i painted my nails. earlier in the morning i had opened the blinds in there because i didn't turn on the overhead lights (i have a bizarre aversion to most overhead light fixtures) since my coworker was not in today (Tim you SUCK. by 'you suck' i mean i hope you are feeling better).

for some reason i never bothered to turn the lights on for nail painting.

finally 3 o'clock rolled around and i left the office to head toward the massage place. i was hungry since all i had for lunch was a cruddy, soggy salad from the government cafeteria. i say cruddy and soggy because i'm pretty sure i'm the only government worker who even bothers with the salad bar, which is only once a month at best, so they don't exactly have the freshest veggies.

i found the massage place and decided to kill time at a Lebanese cafe. i decided to eat outside, and the food was great but i was attacked by a baby bird.

finally i go in for my massage. i walked into the place, and the front room is a nail salon with little Vietnamese ladies walking around. i started wondering what kind of massage i signed up for and did 'deep tissue' mean what i thought it did...?

finally a round, blonde lady comes up from the back room looking for me. i follow her into the massage room and we chit chat about how our days were going. on our way back to the room, i'm pretty sure all of the nail women judged my self-painted nails.

in the room, she handed me a clipboard with some paperwork to fill out, asking what my name is, am i on any medication, what areas did i want worked, am i a psychopath, those sort of things. i filled it all out and handed it back to her. she looks over it, we discuss, and she just stays sitting there.

enter weirdness. so, usually the massage therapist discusses, then leaves you alone to undress and whatnot. they give you extra time for the whatnot. but instead, she just sat there.

i'm thinking, "so, is she going to leave, am i supposed to undress now, is she going to stay in here for that, usually they leave, couldn't she at least turn the lights down, why is she just sitting there, maybe people don't undress at this place, i wouldn't have eaten at the cafe if i knew someone was going to see me stark nekkid, maybe i undress elsewhere, i don't know what to do with my hands, why is she just sitting there"....

so naturally i ask, "so... do i undress now... oorrr...?"

a mutual 'what-the-f*ck' look came over both of our faces as an awkward pause soaked up a few seconds while what sounded like some hindu version of "do you hear what i hear" was playing softly over the CD player.

she got up and headed toward the doorway as she told me to undress and that she was starting me face-up. she'd knock when she came back.

so i shimmy out of my clothes and into the massage bed thing. she knocks, comes back, turned the lights down, and we made small talk for a few minutes and the massage went great.

until the end. so i'm laying on my front with my face in the little peep hole thing. she massaged my upper back and neck, then did a little head massage. nice. well, then she pulled on my pony tail. more than once. so it was no accident.

i thought, "did i inadvertently write that on my paperwork, or.... uh, no one has done that before during a massage, kind of... rough, or something. weird. but in a good way, but not really because that's weird, since this is a massage, um."

then she tapped me on my shoulder to wake me up, as if the hair pullin' didn't do it.

it was a really good massage, and she was nice or whatever. but... yeah that happened today.

weird.

spongy placenta

so this was one of "those" weeks. seemingly for everyone. i'm not sure what "those weeks" really means anymore because it seems to be every week, for everyone, anymore.

what do we do? hold a last-minute happy hour. because my friends are awesome.

i show up early (on time) since i live right down the road. as i'm waiting for my friends to show up so we can all discuss what our horrible days have been like, i get a few texts from a friend. she makes small talk then asks if we can talk on the phone. which is out of the ordinary.

i call, she drops the bomb that blondie's pops passed away that morning. many things ran through my mind: i can't imagine how he's doing, i don't know what to do with my hands, what's appropriate death etiquette between ex's, well we're not really considered 'ex's', do i call or text, i don't want to muddy the water, jumbo mango margarita, i knew the man fairly well and want to attend services... and all i muttered after a decent pause was, "what can i do, if anything..."

well we get off the phone, she said i should do something which was in concurrence with my gut.

i sat down at the table, and denise told me she ordered me a mango margarita, which was also in concurrence with my gut.

katie offered a little insight about what is caring and appropriate in that type of situation, so after 5-7 minutes of deliberation and tweaking, we collectively composed a very appropriate and caring text message to send off.

so happy hour commences. we discussed things like boys, jobs, not getting jobs, not having boys, allergies, moving, denise's pumpkin muffies in our mouths, corned beef and cabbage, the first day of fall, lindsey moving away to chicago, not working, the revolting process of childbirth, and i'm sure some other things...

over the course of the evening, we downed 4 baskets of chips, salsa, guac, and queso, among other things. the margaritas were just delightful, and of course we topped off the night for some photo ops by an old rustic decoration truck outside of the restaurant.

i can't not laugh every time i read the title of this post. katie relayed robin's theory of how you can say anything while laughing, and it really does make it funny. the image of katie leaning over the table saying "spongy placenta" through forced laughter will definitely stay ingrained in my mind for a long time.

and turns out, it works.

my friends are so cool.