Nothing special. Just me. Returning to the blog-o-sphere. Been busy with school. And when I say busy, I mean I have just been playing Rise of Tomb Raider (which BTW, is fucking bad ass so far). No really, I have been spending most of my time with school work, studying, or poking and prodding my animals. They don’t seem to mind me taking their vitals weekly or checking their gums and capillary refill times almost daily. Mister, the cat, is the one who protests…. but only slightly. He “bit” me when I took his vitals today. When I say “bit”, I mean he opened his mouth and brushed his teeth on my hand. He felt that was enough of a hint to tell me to stop. I didn’t. And he did not protest further.
School has been going awesome. Not to brag, but… what am I saying? I LOVE to brag. I am totally maintaining a 4.0 GPA. I’m not competitive at all.
This quarter, I guess you can call them quarters… they last six weeks… anyhow, we got 8 new students…. one of whom, I cannot stand and wish to fillet with a butter knife. I don’t know how I would accomplish that, but I am willing to find a way to make the constant stories about this animal or that animal that she has on her father’s ranch just stop. Is it going to be on the test? No? Then shut the fuck up. I get it. She is proud of her experience with horses and cows and their shit. But I don’t care. All I need to know for this program is if it is a beef or dairy cow. I don’t need to know your opinion on how each cow on your ranch has a personality. It is not on the test. I don’t want to know about how you once knew someone who had a breed of dog or cat or horse or cow. I don’t care.
Brian says that I seem to have to find one person each quarter to latch onto and hate…. I disagree. I was able to get rid of my problem from the first sequence for the most part (she moved to the morning classes because she thought she’d get a leg up getting into the tech program). I hated her because she didn’t shower, didn’t know what personal space was, thought she was superior, and was overall unpleasant. I still have to see her occasionally. At which point, I usually just leave the room with no explanation. It is better than murder… or so I’m told.