this weekend has confirmed the following:
1. purple fingerling potatoes should not exist, even as filler in the colorful displays of roots and veggies at the swankiest of fresh markets. i refuse to entertain that a tuber resembling the large toe of a leper could be tasty. i googled the purple fingerling potato, and none of the resulting recipes made them sound more appetizing.
2. monopolizing a library printer for an hour to print out 300 pages of an academic journal for one of my professors, while an unprecedented pain in the ass, does give me a little rush of graduate student superiority. let all those bioengineering undergrads — who seem, by the way, to overrun this campus — wait to print out their latest nonsensical research. because i am a research assistant! i am the toady of someone who controls whether you pass or fail freshman comp! tremble! tremble, i say!
at least, that’s how i’m dealing with being someone’s copy bitch.
my labor day weekend was actually quite uneventful. i spent a lot of time in my pajamas watching movies on TBS and drinking wine out of my red-swirly pier one goblets. oh, and reading derrida. (note: i do not recommend attempting to read derrida when you are the slightest bit tipsy. possible consequences: highlighter hysteria, confusion to the point of body-racking sobs, and, eventually, an indifference toward deconstruction so complete and passionate that you genuinely consider depositing your coursepack into the circular file.)
the good news is that danny called, and it sounds like he may be returning from iraq as early as the end of february! ::little dance:: every part of a month they keep his unit after march 4 (their one-year-in-county date), the army has to pay each soldier $1000. so they’re really trying to get them home to avoid the extra expense. which is fine with me. he seems to be doing well, although he has realized that everything he has done in iraq could have been done remotely from texas. which is frustrating, to say the least. but a futile subject.
okay, i officially have to get up in less than seven hours. houston sucks for my sleep cycle. i think i’m going to go take a shot of vodka…
two funny funny books*:
1. it was on fire when i lay down on it, by robert fulghum. far superior to the kindergarten book he’s famous for. i definitely recommend his essays concerning fireflies and meatloaf.
2. a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, by dave eggers. the man is a genius.
* i am purposefully not including me talk pretty one day by david sedaris, which i purchased with soaring expectations after many recommendations. i only chuckled once.