| That time I took a dip during endocrine physiology. |
The other night, I had a Friend Emergency and ended up being about 15 minutes late to my 3 hour lecture. I was rushing rushing to get to school, happened to find a good parking space, and ran into the lecture hall, flushed and embarrassed and just an all around mess.
Yes? you are saying? Your eyebrows are raised because WHAT THE HELL ELSE IS NEW UP IN HERE?
Ah, well. I will tell you.
About fifteen minutes after I'd arrived, I got a text (don't worry, my phone was on vibrate). It was from my friend Ro who was arriving for HER lecture (a different one than mine). The text said "Your lights are on, little lady!"
Well fuckity fuck fuck fuck stick, I thought. I had already caused a scene coming in late. The thing is, this summer I started taking master's classes in addition to my regular curriculum. They're super enjoyable and challenging and great, but the problem is they are much smaller in size. We're talking between 4 and 12 people for some of them. Maybe. My other classes are much larger, affording me far more anonymity (for a while, at least). So when I'd bustled in to a master's class tonight, everyone looked up, annoyed (understandable) and then made a big sighing deal about turning back around for the rest of the lecture. I blushed, took the nearest available seat, dug around obnoxiously for a pen while whispering "sorry...sorry...sorry" and when I couldn't find one I gave up and vowed to write in blood and diet coke. At this point I was blushing so much I'm sure it was audible.
And now was I going to have to clump (or krump) back out, turn off the lights in my car, and krump back in? Causing at least two and perhaps more disturbances? WILL THE FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS NEVER CEASE???
I decided, perhaps, that it was okay to leave the lights on for another 2h30min. I don't know a lot about cars, but I reasoned that sometimes you drive for more than 2 hours at a time, with the lights on, so it was probably okay? Right? RIGHT?
I texted Dr Poop. "What happens if I leave the lights on in my car for 2+ hours? Nothing, right?"
"Probably just need a jump," was the reply.
Well, I just don't know how to do that. He might as well have replied "You'll just have to sprinkle the car with angel urine and stick a unicorn dollar in the ignition." I am not even sure I own jumper...cables? Sticks? Wands? Let's go with dildos. I don't even own jumper dildos. So sue me. And I know I am sounding really bitter here, but I've recently become pretty angry that I don't know anything about cars. I got ripped off at the repair shop a few weeks ago and it's all because it's the one aspect of consumerism where I just have to say "Here you go!" and hand them a blank check because I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. It's so upsetting. That's what happens when you don't need to own a car until you're 27. Dammit.
Anyway. Back to the story.
So I did not want to have to jump my car, and the only way I could be sure that I wouldn't have to jump my car was to go back outside, turn off my lights, and come back in to class with all the stealth of a brass band on amphetamines. It was the only solution.
I got up and scooted to the door as fast as my stumpy little legs could carry me. I paused just before exiting, however, because I realized that we were being visited by a late-autumn monsoon. Fucking shitballs.
I own an umbrella. And a raincoat. And Dr Poop's umbrella too- I own that. Know where they were? The car. Know where I was? Not close to the car.
I weighed the options again and decided that the only thing worse than having to jump the car would be having to jump the car in this downpour, and I might just have to get a little damp. So I booked it to the gee dee car, turned off the lights, and ran back to the building. I was absolutely drenched.
I squished to the bathroom and attempted to get my hair to stop dripping water so very actively down my back, but since the paper towels in there are about as absorbent as duck feathers it wasn't an effective exercise plus now I smelled like shitty paper towel.
I opened the door to my classroom and tried to slip unnoticed into my seat, but the combination of a very loud wet squeaking to my shoes and the small class size made that relatively impossible. Everyone's heads whirled around yet again except this time they flat out stared at me as I dripped over to my seat.
I just smiled too big like a crazy person and sat down. A normal nancy might have been like "It's raining out, guys" or just offered a simple "Sorry, Dr Willist." But I'm not nancy. Instead, I chose to go mute and allow the room to believe that I had just had some private playtime in the toilet because really, what other explanation ould there be for someone returning to class THAT soaking wet. Later it occurred to me that there are no windows in that room, and it had stopped raining by the time I left class, so nobody was really the wiser as to the intensity of that monsoon.
On the plus side, I didn't need to use my jumper dildos. |
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| 10 Comments: |
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Just remember black is negative with those jumper dildos.
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You are my favorite person of this minute. I so desperately needed to counteract the overall crapiness of today with a laugh. I am more a LINOL person (Laugh Inside Not Out Loud), but that doesn't mean I enjoyed it any less. My favorite lines of the whole wonderful think is "Fucking shitballs."
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... and i wonder how everyone felt about you texting all throughout class? i just keep imaginging the crazy lady in the corner soaking wet, smelling funny and texting like a madman. it's a good visual. i like.
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Yet another outstanding blog entry, Meg! I stand behind no one in my admiration of your humor and talent. And I knew we were kindred spirits! I use the phrase, "and other first world problems" all the time! On myself and others! Bravo!
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[bursting into an OR soaking wet] Hi everyone! I'm Meg! I'm a doctor! Shit, am I late to the operation here? What, you say I'm the lead doctor here? No, really? Oh, fucking shitballs, has this patient been intubated for long? Oh, shit - what's that, a clamp? Is it that dildo shaped thing? Oh, hold on, let me text my bf who I nicknamed Dr. Poop...he's a doctor, too. No, really!
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I hate shitty paper towels. they smell... shitty.
and it lingers.
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This is why it's best I'm in an office where nobody notices my comings and goings.
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"Brass band on amphetamines." Priceless!
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I love when I see the little (1) next to your bolded blog name.
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anon one- that's a really good tip. thank you.
lemonade- linol made me laugh. also made me think of linoleum.
ruby- that's a good point. i received one text. and sent one. and then i promise, no more. some people are balls out dicking around on their iphones during lectures here, though. no joke.
mary- it's so true! first world problems can really be overwhelming.
anon- totally feasible, but i'm not going in to surgery.
Lora- they are the WORST.
HS- nobody watches THAT YOU KNOW OF
Superbee- they can sousa you to death.
pdw- i love coffee.
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Name: A Lover and a Fighter
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Just remember black is negative with those jumper dildos.