Covert Ops

Fortunately (for both me and you), Ambivalent Academic has tagged me. This means my previously scheduled post concerning the proper care and maintenance of crocheted toaster cozies will be postponed— hopefully permanently. Just know that nothing says “elegance, sophistication, and modernity” like covering petty appliances with yarn.

Best Cover and Worst Cover Ever

Best: “Ring of Fire” Social Distortion
I know the Johnny Cash version is a classic. But there is room in my musical heart for the Social D version to also be a classic. Social D (pre-rehab) could do no wrong.



Worst: “Anarchy in the UK” Motley Crue
Why did these losers think they could take on a Sex Pistols song? Don’t even bother to click on the video. Seriously, unless you just ingested a poisonous substance and need to induce vomiting don’t click.



If you actually enjoy Motley Crue, in a non-funny way, TAG your it! (and please explain the appeal)

ATTN: Produce Shoppers

Motherfuck. Who the fuck spends that much time picking out a fucking potato? Get out of my way Potato-Freak-Person. I just need one of those onions over there and you are soooooo in the way. It’s a fucking potato. This is not some delicate produce issue. A potato is not a finicky and possibly delicious fruit, it does not require the scrutiny. Is it NOT rotten? Is it NOT sprouting? Then fucking buy it. Let that potato win the motherfucking Ultimate Potato of the Universe prize and pick it up already! Put it in a bag if you want, just scoot the fuck over and stop blocking the onions. You still seem to be examining the motherfucking potatoes. Why? What special function do you possibly have in mind for them? Your options are to bake the living shit out of them, smash the shit out of them, or fry the shit out of them. Whatever you choose, all the potatoes in front of you will perform equally well. I could run home and get you one of my potatoes faster than you are capable of selecting one from a SEA, a fucking SEA, of equivalent potatoes. Fuck you. I am going in for an onion. I hope melons aren’t on your shopping list fucker.

Intervention

I will just to have to trust all of you to notify me immediately if you see me engaging in the following behaviors:

1. I don a leather motorcycle jacket paired with a bathing suit and attempt to go waterskiing.

2. I hire a cute and adorable 6 year old guest blogger named Dr. Bowl-cut to join my posts.

3. I replace herkies with “the pike” and expect no one to notice.

4. I pick up Acadamnit and move it from Ivory Tower, University Town to Minneapolis under a highly dubious work-related guise.

5. I finally decide to have wild and passionate sex with my blog colleagues.

6. Popular Acadamnit characters, such as…uhm, monkeys, Deans and Reply-Allers, leave the blog in favor of more lucrative movie careers.

If I jump the shark in any of these conventional methods, an intervention will be required. While I no doubt have a shark to jump (coincidentally I saw fucking sharks on vacation- they were close, it was awesome), I will try to jump it gracefully. Preferably, I’ll make this jump with a cocktail in my hand a few good books under my belt, and stream of publications trailing behind me. We shall see.

(Can you believe that fucking kitten poster? I almost pissed myself.)

Dilemma

It’s finally over. I made it. I have tenure, the semester is over, and will be on sabbatical next school year. That’s 15 months of not being in my office, not answering my phone, not teaching classes, not going to meetings… not doing any of that shit. I don’t even need an excuse not to do these things, it’s perfectly legitimate. Wow. I can actually do and not do what I want? This is fantastic.

Here’s the deal though: I go to work, I get annoyed, I blog. Take two of those away and what’s left? A blog about being on sabbatical? Is that interesting? I’m not sure it is. I know what I want to do with my time, write and read my ass off, walk my dog a lot, start a garden, and get back to my ideal morning routine (which involves avoiding morning altogether by sleeping through it). None of these activities annoy me…am I going to end up with flowers and rainbows all over this blog? Cute fucking animals and shit accompanying a bunch of posts about how late I slept and how many students I didn’t teach? Yikes.

I could dwell on the negative. I’m sure I’ll experience writers block, some fucking student will track me down at my house, I’ll still get all the damn emails…but I don’t want to think about these things. I think it might be time to kill Acadamnit.

Choose Your Own Adventure!

I’m going to write two versions of this. If you want to read something happy, proceed to Page 1. If you want to read angry snark, go to Page 2.





Page 1
Hell yeah VACATION. (By selecting Page 1 you have chosen a path that has nothing to do with academic matters. If you would like me to rant about work, please select Page 2. Did I not make that clear?) I am going somewhere awesome. “Awesome” is a stupid word that has regrettably entered my vocabulary. But this time I mean it, awesome. It is very far from here, has palm trees, and long beaches with few people on them. Seafood. Drinks. Sunshine. To me, a vacation is not a vacation unless it involves scary turboprop planes that land on tiny airstrips. When, if the plane fails to land properly, you end up in the ocean. Listen, museums, architecture, mass transit systems, restaurants…they’re all good. But they do not constitute vacation. Vacation is all snorkeling, plants you’ve never seen before, shells, fruit, tan lines, and booze under an unfamiliar but starrified sky. That’s vacation.

Page 2
WHY WON’T THIS END? Fucking school, end already! I want (need) out of here. It’s like every time I try to leave I am trapped by some stupid task. (If you would like to know why I so desperately need this semester to end, beyond the usual end of semester insanity, please read Page 1). What else can I possibly sign for a student before I leave. Can I just autograph all their asses? Will that get them through my sabbatical? What additional shit can I possibly do? Yes, please! Ask me ALL the questions, ask for all the files, send me all the emails right now please! I love DESPERATELY wanting to just get this semester over with and being deluged by petty tasks. Really, it’s awesome. Great, the phone’s ringing. The phone stopped ringing. I think I broke it.

I’m outta here! Unless the Professor from Gilligan’s Island happens to be vacationing on the same island as me and can build me a computer and internet connection (with some coconuts and tropical vines of course, which we will use to read Acadamnit as opposed to seeking rescue) I’ll be back to type at you in a week or so.

Case Closed

It happened. Please, just do me this favor; turn the volume ALL the way up on your computer. If you are at work, close the door. If you are at home, pour yourself a drink. Done yet? OK, push play. (No stopping or pausing DAMNIT!)



Sincerely,
Associate Professor No

***Click on the SBDN Official Seal for an update on DGT***
(and yeah I know, the comments link isn't showing up unless you click on the post)

Giving Head (or not)

I recently found myself in a car with one of my colleagues. We were snarkily discussing the distribution of a small pot of money by our department head. We got miniscule raises (yes, raises, I know, shocking). We were wondering where the hell the money could have gone…even our miniscule raises do not add up to the money pot. I look over. The car rapidly approaching, then passing us is a very expensive little foreign convertible. Driving the car? Department head. I shit you not. It could only have been better if a bikini clad Tawny Kitaen was in the passenger seat and $100 bills were flying out.

To Do List:

1. Restock the liquor cabinet. Who drank the nasty stuff in the back anyway?

2. Search the internet for Cheetoh themed kitchen towels. I love the kitchen makeover, but a few extra touches are needed. Perhaps chickens or bunny rabbits munching on cheetohs, or Chester surrounded by a cornucopia of vegetables would be nice. Yes, a wallpaper border with matching towels and curtains would really finish off the look.

3. Visit a tailor. For some reason all my tweeds are fitting me strangely. Weird, did somebody play dress-up?

4. Wash the sheets. (If anyone is missing a zebra print rhinestone bedazzled thong, I found it.)

5. Find a better hiding place for my stash. (uhm, that thing you found, it’s just a jelly-bean holder I swear)

6. Search the blogosphere for a few missing items. My copy of “Freedom Rock” appears to be missing, a couple pairs of underwear, and half a case of Cheetohs…I’m sure they are around here somewhere…

The plants do appear to have been watered…and beer is good for lawns right? Anyone have a deposit out on this keg?