Saturday, January 29, 2011

The SuperFantabulous is Not Dead!!

Dear, sweet Derelict Nutjobs,

Your Dear Leader has been terribly remiss. You may have lost faith in my ability to string words together in a mostly coherent diatribe about nothing. You may have even lost faith in my ability to be living and breathing.

Fear not!! I'm not the type to get bored with myself, or things to do with me or even breathing for that matter. I have just been extremely busy.

No, no! Don't die of shock!! It can happen to even the most repose of us.

Dear Readers, don't feel neglected. I have been thinking of you. Even if I can't be bothered to put fingers to keyboard, I'm still composing a running commentary of my daily life as it happens, as if I were narrating a reality show of my super star life. I do it for you, My Dearests.

Here's a few excerpts for your viewing pleasure (since no one has yet realized that my life should be continuously recorded and blasted to TV sets worldwide, you'll just have to imagine it.)

1. Tests. Did you know you have to take no less than 50 asinine, three hour long tests before you can be admitted into a teaching program? Well you don't. There's only three. However, some of them might require you to schedule online, and show everything's booked for a month causing you to have a panic attack because you have to have everything turned in by February first, but then when you call, there's actually many open spots. Others require you to drive to other cities that suck even more than yours and will fail you if you remove your sweater while in the testing room (you must raise your hand and wait for the attendant to escort you to the lobby before removing said superfluous sweater). All that aggravation counts for at least 47 tests, I believe.

2. Spin classes. Sorry Zuz, I loved them first. I still make sure to make time for you at least three times a week. And, Zuz, last week the spin instructor was inspired to comment, "SuperFantabulous, you look like you should be a Nike model. Doesn't she? The way the sweat is running down your arms like that, you could be a Nike model, couldn't she?" Everyone agreed, because that's how we roll in spin class, we're agreeable. Would you ever say that Zuz? You're the model in our relationship, Zuz, I need a place to shine!!

3. Making dinner every night will be the death of me. My uncle taught me how to use a pressure cooker and the exciting possibility that my beans could explode onto the ceiling every night, keeps me on edge.

4. I have a new pet. I call her "My Teen". Who knew an impossible, strong willed child could over night metamorphasize into an irrational hell-beast? It certainly took me by surprise. However, with a few tricks I learned from watching "The Dog Whisperer," she is quickly learning not to ferociously attack the vacuum cleaner when she should be doing her homework.

5. Yesterday the applying to grad school drama finally came to an end. My last set of transcripts finally arrived, I stuffed them in the envelope with the rest of the 300 pages of grad school application and took it to the post office. I arrived and the guy stood up to come serve me. I was busy obsessing over whether I actually had everything.

"Just a minute, I'm not ready yet."
"Well, you've got two minutes." He said with a heavy sigh.
"I better hurry then." I shoved everything in the envelope.
"Yeah, you better." He looked extremely annoyed.
I handed him the envelope which he weighed and stamped. I was suspicious of his grumpy demeanor. What if he throws my mail in the trash? What if he opens it and shreds it? Why does this guy hate me?
"Can I get tracking on that?"
"Jesus Christ!!" He hissed under his breath.
Whatevs. I wanted my tracking.
"I'll have to run the credit card again." He fumed.
"I can pay for that with cash, actually."

He totally ruined my epic 'mailing of graduate school application' moment. But what could I expect? He is a postal worker after all. They're supposed to be totally postal, it's in their nature. Otherwise, we wouldn't say that, now would we?

Love Always,

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