I’m taking this class in my final semester of my graduate career, and i suppose it’s mostly an urban planning class. I’m not an urban planner. I didn’t take the pre-reqs, I’ll have you know, but this is urban planning lite.
We just talk about things like facebook and wordpress and iphones and how they build skyscrapers. My professor goes on tangents and gets really excited to tell us that at any given time 1/3 of us are not listening to him, instead having sexual fantasies about nerds.
Last night McCullen basically told me I’m doomed over a particular nerd. At least that’s what I remember right now. I have a tequila headache and I’m drinking a 64-ounce iced coffee from DK’D Donas (the copyright infringement avoiding Tegucigalpa branch of the famous Donuteria).
McCullen said I’m too nurturing and that I can’t have a husband until I stop fretting over people like I’m an angry Jewish grandma. Maybe I said that. Who can remember yesterday? People who don’t take tequila shots on a Wednesday at 9pm, perhaps.
Today for this Urban Planning class, I have to record all my communications – all of my gchats and emails and texts and et cetera. I have already had to add a sheet to my tracking spreadsheet that is named irrelevant. It is growing fast.