My biological clock is ticking
After becoming the last person in North America to hear about the now-passe' Susan Boyle phenomenon, I spent some time thinking about spinsters. Specifically, me. As both of my readers know, I, like Dame Boyle, am frumpy and gauche, but I can't sing. And while I find Schönberg's ouevre (specifically Les Miserables) schmaltzy to the point of toxicity, I concede it would be nice to girdle up and belt out a couple showtunes every now and then at pub karaoke.
Thus began a week of serious Old-Maid-ennui. What could I do to get out of this funk? Pro tip: Jose Cuervo is not your buddy in this situation; last Friday...at the bar...he made me poke-fun-at/vomit-on some guy just for being Dutch.
...lol, the other guy, not me OBVS. I'd kill myself if I was Dutch.
I know -- kids! I love kids! If I could get a few of those nursing at my copious bosom, I'd surely be more fulfilled, right? So I went to the assistant chairman's office and asked for a TA position in General Physics for the summer.
This was a mistake.
Not the request itself, mind you. I still would love to teach freshmen; at present I get very little email of the form "hey wutz up do we have to know long division???" and "ur gay lol" (thanks, Mom). The problem is that talking to David Taylor is like having a girlfriend: he never shuts the fuck up. In ninety (90, !!!) minutes, he educated me in the following topics:
- How Galileo invented gravity.
- How procuring government research funding works. (Hint: it's like sucking dick for crack....if you needed a PhD to suck dick for crack)
- How I will never have a faculty job. Ever.
- How America is becoming a nation of harelipped barely-functional retards in XXXL sweatpants because we failed to build the Superconducting Supercollider in the '90s.
- Victorian homes in Evanston.
For a heterosexual, he knows a disturbing amount amount about that last one. (users.rcn.com/scndempr/dave/index.html, not hyperlinked for fear of the department finding my journal)
Eventually, I got my answer:
Chatty Kathy: You're the biophysics fellow. The way things are set up, you can either take the prize behind Door A, or behind Door B. We can't give you Door A plus 10% of Door B.
Me: So you would let me teach these kids, but you won't pay me?
Chatty Kathy: That's right.
Me: Could you just give me cash under the table?
Chatty Kathy: That's...um...illegal.
Me: I'm going back to my office do my taxes.
Chatty Kathy: Aren't we paying you to do research?
Me: Yes.
So I'm still a dowdy Carol Channing qua Hello, Dolly! for the time being, guys. You can send the fan mail/recording contracts to my department mailbox.
Thus began a week of serious Old-Maid-ennui. What could I do to get out of this funk? Pro tip: Jose Cuervo is not your buddy in this situation; last Friday...at the bar...he made me poke-fun-at/vomit-on some guy just for being Dutch.
...lol, the other guy, not me OBVS. I'd kill myself if I was Dutch.
I know -- kids! I love kids! If I could get a few of those nursing at my copious bosom, I'd surely be more fulfilled, right? So I went to the assistant chairman's office and asked for a TA position in General Physics for the summer.
This was a mistake.
Not the request itself, mind you. I still would love to teach freshmen; at present I get very little email of the form "hey wutz up do we have to know long division???" and "ur gay lol" (thanks, Mom). The problem is that talking to David Taylor is like having a girlfriend: he never shuts the fuck up. In ninety (90, !!!) minutes, he educated me in the following topics:
- How Galileo invented gravity.
- How procuring government research funding works. (Hint: it's like sucking dick for crack....if you needed a PhD to suck dick for crack)
- How I will never have a faculty job. Ever.
- How America is becoming a nation of harelipped barely-functional retards in XXXL sweatpants because we failed to build the Superconducting Supercollider in the '90s.
- Victorian homes in Evanston.
For a heterosexual, he knows a disturbing amount amount about that last one. (users.rcn.com/scndempr/dave/index.html, not hyperlinked for fear of the department finding my journal)
Eventually, I got my answer:
Chatty Kathy: You're the biophysics fellow. The way things are set up, you can either take the prize behind Door A, or behind Door B. We can't give you Door A plus 10% of Door B.
Me: So you would let me teach these kids, but you won't pay me?
Chatty Kathy: That's right.
Me: Could you just give me cash under the table?
Chatty Kathy: That's...um...illegal.
Me: I'm going back to my office do my taxes.
Chatty Kathy: Aren't we paying you to do research?
Me: Yes.
So I'm still a dowdy Carol Channing qua Hello, Dolly! for the time being, guys. You can send the fan mail/recording contracts to my department mailbox.