Like, I have, like, a Salad Spinner!

So remember how I got a Salad Spinner for Christmas? I would just like to reiterate that it is one of the most magical inventions ever. What can I say? I love dry, unsmushed lettuce. Also - because I am I dumb - the Salad Spinner only just made it back to my apartment. Christmas was a while ago. I am really lazy.

But it's here now! And I love it! And my lettuce is dry! And yay!

Moving on...

Long long ago, when I was going to school in Boston, I took an amazing class on the Sociology of Deviance. My professor was spectacular, the material was spectacular, and most of the students in the class were really bright and had intelligent things to say. Most. There was this one guy (I forget his name but remember exactly what he looked like. He had this really curly blonde mop of hair and I am almost positive that he wore clogs. CLOGS!) who insisted on speaking at least once during every class period, which is normally dandy, but he was one of those people who said "like" every. other. freaking. word. ('It's like, like, when you, like, go to a place and like, there is, like, stuff there and like..." STAB STAB STAB) It got to the point where I would look around during one of his little rants and see that not only I, but numerous other people in the class, were making tally-marks in their notebooks to count just how many times he said it. I wanted to kick him.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, my current class has one of these as well. She is a very pretty girl, but she talks in class CONSTANTLY and today I started my tally. She spoke three times during class today. I zoned out during the first speech, but during the second she said "like" eighteen times, and during the third fifteen times.

Fucking A, people. Learn how to speak!

On top of everything else, in the first week of class I singled myself out as a talkative person in class and now it seems that my professor intentionally ignores me. Man is that fun. Especially when we are supposed to be talking about literature from the Middle Ages and he wants to talk about the Holocaust. Can you blame a girl for wanting to get back to the material we are studying?

Grumble grumble grumble. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves