Today, I Had Scheduling Problems

Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that...

I also learned something new about my mom:

Don't mess with her kid's schedule. She will eat you for breakfast.

These problems were really for no good reason. It wasn't an issue of "this won't work," "we don't have a class for you," "the teacher doesn't want you to do this," none of that nonsense.

The reasoning for this one?

"...Cuz."

Like, seriously. I don't think those jackasses have a single reason for turning down my application for an independent study. It was totally worked out, and they didn't have to do anything but sit on their butts and sign a piece of paper. That simple.

Maybe it's because they don't do anything, and secretly they feel a little useless (which they very well should, because, well, they are.) So instead of employing themselves in useful fields, they take things that would be just fine and fuck with 'em.

I was completely prepared to do this independent study. My teacher was totally okay with it. My counselor said it would work.

So why exactly do they come back with a response of "sorry, that won't work. It fits in your schedule, you just need to drop Chambers. That's your only option."

I'm sorry, what?

I think something is being missed here.

Chambers is my schedule.

It's a class. You think it's just choir? Yeah, tell that to my choir teacher. Go tell her that you think it's only practical for me to drop her class, because let's face it, it's "just choir."

Hell, if we're looking at it that way, it's calculus that doesn't fit into my schedule. Because Chambers outweighs math a thousand to one. And if you think that I'm going to be willing to give on something like that because you think that it's a lesser class, then you have another thing coming.

These classes are equal. Choir is equal to English is equal to math is equal to history. They are all the same to me. If I had my English class in the block that I needed to take math, or my French class, or my history class, they would let me independent study. They would have to. Because it wouldn't fit in my schedule.

But somehow, to the administration, the fact that my class is different makes it so that they don't really care about how much I want to take it, the fact of the matter is that it is in the way of something that's "more important."

Well, I have news for you. I have been screwed over on my French class and inconvenienced on  my math class, but there is not one single way that I am giving up this class. Choir is my world.

Just see if you can make me change.

Internet, You're Letting Me Down

You know, for all of the hundreds of thousands of useless posts about topics that have about as much credibility as a four year old's opinion on the trends in the stock market, one would think that it would be easier to find at least one page that contains the information that you want.

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case. It appears that the idiots and miscreants who enjoy spamming the internet with their useless brainwaves don't actually care to take the time to think up a decent page.

I mean, sure, if you're doing research or something scholarly and resourceful, it's plenty easy to find the information that you want. As it's said, the internet is a vast pool of knowledge that you need only to tap into with your fingertips to find anything that you could ever need to know.

But try to find movie quotes, and that's it, game over for you.

All I wanted was to find one good page of all of the funny things that John Krazinski's character says in Something Borrowed, but the only quotes I found were obviously from people whose sense of humor only extends as far as their funny bone, but their capacity for cheesy romanticism is endless.

"Let's get another drink."

"You don't want to."

"I want to."

That qualified for every single page I looked at? That's not even a quote! That's a typical conversation! That's the kind of thing that you say when trying to convince somebody of something, anything, true or not. That, my friends, is lame.

All I'm saying is, Ethan got the shaft on all of these quote pages, as his character is obviously more quotable than Dex, seeing as how Dex is only there for his criminally good looks.

Screw movies reviews. Next time, I'm making my own page of quotes. 

That way I don't have to rely on pages that relay quotes like this one:

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

There Are No Words To Describe This Emotion

May I start this off with a word or warning to all you would-be warriors who may or may not have been planning on actually reading this whole post, it is going to be very angry. Please cover the ears of small children and brace yourselves.

So. School's starting on Friday. I'll be a senior. That's cool.

Seniors are supposed to have the easy schedules, yeah?

Yeah...

Didn't work out quite that way for me.

Now, there is a possibility that it may have if my counselor wasn't an idiot, or our administration didn't suck, or the I.B. coordinator wasn't a stuffed shirt.

To ease that blow a little bit, I will say this. I'm sure they're all perfectly nice, friendly people with lots of friends because they're friendly and people like being their friends.

They just suck at their jobs.

Every single year before this one, seniors get their schedules first. Not just a few days anybody else, but weeks. Every year except this one, the only people to get their schedules before summer break are seniors. And every year, the counselors are there and willing to talk with seniors, so they get all of their scheduling issues resolved before summer starts.

Well, fuck that. That sounds like a terrible plan, right?

No. It sounds like a fucking awesome plan! Too bad you didn't do it at all. AHHHHHH.

So I started my summer break with a schedule somewhat like this:

1st block - AP Euro (chosen over AP Psych, which were assigned to the same block by the genius behind the master schedule, so we all had to pick either one or the other. Awesome.)

2nd block - Food science (so I can actually fulfill the practical arts credit that I need to graduate. Congratulations, you guys did something right for a change!)

3rd block - Choir (after much stubborn unwillingness to change, may I add.)

4th block - Empty. (Not a time release, not an aiding block, just empty. Possibility of taking French 4 at Silver Creek, because they will not allow me into the only French 4 class at Niwot, because it's "just for the I.B. kids", and "if I let you in, then it's not fair to the I.B. kids because a student is allowed in one of their classes who doesn't have to follow the same curriculum as the rest of them." Yeah, what the fuck ever. Shut up. You're stupid.)

5th block- Time release. I'm okay with that.

6th block - AP Lit (hey, something else you guys did right! Give yourselves a huge pat on the back. You earned it.)

7th block - Musical theatre (keep in mind that this class is necessary for at least the first two and half months of school in order for me to keep my lead in the show. Remember that. It's important.)

8th block - Another time release. Cool.

Doesn't look too terrible, right? Other than that one small problem of an empty block, I have all of my classes. Except for math. And a real, legitimate French class... Meh.

These seem to be problems that are impossible to solve.

Don't try and tell me that I haven't tried. That I haven't put forth a good effort. That I haven't followed up enough or talked to the right people.

Because I have.

I have emailed my counselor more times than I would like to count about fixing these problems, and every time he manages to take at least three days to respond, and then manage to not answer a single one of my questions.

So, French. At another school. So far, none of the people I've thought were taking it are actually taking it.

They still don't know what block it is.

Meanwhile, I keep hearing of more people being allowed into I.B. French.

So why wasn't I?

I speak more French than a majority of people in the classes at Niwot, of that I can guarantee you. I love the language. I speak it whenever I can, to whoever will listen. I would put myself into that class 110%. So why am I not allowed into it?

Oh, yeah, because if I was allowed in, other people would feel left out.

Wait a second, though. The people who might feel left out? You already let them in the class, apparently. So now who's the one feeling left out?

Me. That's fucking who.

And, I don't have a math class in my schedule.

I'm planning on independent studying calculus. I'm prepared to independent study it. I'm ready to.

Now I just have to wait on them. Are they going to finally decide to meet with me a day before school starts and tell me to find another option because they don't think it's going to work for them? Are they going to expect me to figure something out, or blame me for the problem being worked on so close to the beginning of the year when it's their fault in the first place that it has been put off for this long?

I'm so mad right now, I can barely even start to convey to you the depth of my emotions.

This is just a very on-the-surface briefing of the cataclysm of rage and angry words swirling around in my head right now.

I can't even handle it.

Official Beyotch of the Night

In customer service, you see some pretty colorful characters. Anybody could tell you that.

Most of the time they're just weird. Or stupid.

Sometimes, they're little slices of hell cast down to Earth to make the rest of us suffer for sins that we may or may not have committed. Jesus died for them, these people live for them.

Here's a basic rundown of a conversation I had tonight.

First, let's set the stage. It's about 8:30, the store's not terribly crowded. I'm helping one group of people, there's another lady up front, and a couple people sitting on the benches waiting for their order.

As I finish with the little group I'm helping and they go toddling off, drink cups in hand, another guy walks in. He's in his twenties, cute enough to be pleasant company but my pulse is still exactly where it should be. The lady who was there before him is standing awkwardly between the two registers, but closer to the one that I'm not at, staring awkwardly up. Like, I can't tell if she's reading the menu boards, or if she just shifted her gaze in that general direction and got stuck. There was so much awkward in her situation, I didn't even know what to make of it.

Some people stand in such awkward manners because they're truly dumbfounded by the contents of the menu board and, despite the fact that they have been there now for multiple minutes, they still can't really decide what they want. And considering how many we get of that specimen, let's just say I wasn't phased.

So said hey, and asked how "they" were doing today. That way, if Madam Awkward was feeling like she was finally ready to get in the big kid line and place an order, she could snap out of her freaky little trance and head over to my register, aka the only one with a person standing in front of it. 

She did not.

She continued to stand exactly where she was, looking exactly where she was.

So the guy kind of starts to head up, we're both in that unsure mode of "Who's next? Is it you? I don't know, she was here, but she doesn't look ready... ah hell, it's you."

He steps up, orders, goes to sit and wait, easy peasy.

As soon as he walked past her, boom trance over.

"Excuse me, I was here first. Why would you help him first? I had been here. That is so RUDE. I mean, I've been here, and what is this, just suddenly this cute guy walks in and you just ignore me? I cannot BELIEVE how RUDE you are. I CANNOT BELIEVE it. That is so ridiculously rude."

Woah there lady, calm it. Now don't be fooled by the fact that I used periods instead of exclamation points. That does not mean that she was any degree calmer. In fact, she was stark raving pissed. Here I was, thinking that she was just another dumbo who couldn't decide what she wanted for dinner, but actually she's some ego-bruised middle age devil sent here to make generalizations about teenage girls. Who knew?

So she's going on about how ridiculously. rude. I am, while I'm telling her that it really wasn't what was intended at all. My manager comes up after she says that I ignored her for a boy (who, let's face it, really wasn't even that cute) and assures her that that's really not the case at all, and it's definitely not the way we work. Then he gives her a 70% discount on one of her dishes, throw a few free desserts at her, and the whole time we're apologizing.

"I'm really very sorry, ma'am. I didn't intend to ignore you at all. We just have a lot of people who come in and are looking at the menu, and I didn't want to rush you. I wasn't sure if you were ready. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, I really didn't."

"It's so just unbelievably rude. I wasn't looking at the menu, I was watching my food get put down over there. (She was there to pick up a phone-in... who knew). And then I watched that girl in the pink sweatshirt try and take it. (Actually, she was checking to see when her order would be ready). I just can't believe that you would ignore me. I was here first. You just wait until you get to be my age and people ignore you."

Mind you, she wasn't that old. Forties, maybe early fifties? Yeah, not that old.

So we apologized many times, and sent her grumbling out the door. Only after she asked for my name, of course, probably so that she could lodge an official complaint on the website against the obviously sex-crazed teenage girl.

The Work Emma was very apologetic. Yes ma'am, of course ma'am, it's all my fault ma'am, I'm very, very sorry.

If it was the Real Emma?

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you realize how obscenely abrasive you are? I mean, Jesus Christ, you weren't even in a line. What is this, Mobs-R-Us? No ma'am, we form lines here. In fact, we even have little ropes to help you out. Generally, the best idea is to just stand right behind the person who's currently being helped, that way you're next in line. Get it? Oh, and by the way, while you were lurking by the second register, we clearly told you on the phone to come to the third. And either way you count it, the one you're standing by will always be the second, because it happens to be in the middle. So props on following directions, Satan spawn. And you know what? He is cute, and he's a hell of a lot cuter than you are, because let's face it, you're getting on there in years and you  have way too many wrinkles to be considered attractive. Also, any inkling of a desire that I may have at one point fostered toward wanting to help you has been completely and brutally extinguished by the fact that you are a huge bitch who needs to locate whatever has been stuck up your butt and dislodge it, asap. OH, and if you're still hungry, there's a Wendy's next door. Open 24 hours. Have a good night."

If only...

Clusterf#*%

That's what this post will be.

For the benefit of those children that may (or may not) read (but really shouldn't read) my blog, I censored the title.

Take that as a warning.

To not continue reading into the clusterfuck.

Aka, stop now.

Anyway. So much has happened over the past month or so, I literally have not had any time to write about it.

So, in order to put a halt on this unfortunate shunning of my blog, I have spent the entirety of this afternoon pondering the best ways in which to consolidate my thoughts of all of the things that have been going on.

In one sentence? People are entertaining.

Usually not on purpose.

In fact, it's usually quite serious. They just fail at being intelligent.

Like when people call in to work to place a phone-in order, and I can't understand their name, so I ask them again. And then the phone beeps, or there's static because they're using a hands-free, or they just have a really freaking weird name that I don't understand.

So after the second time I ask them "I'm sorry ma'am, can you please repeat that one more time for me?" they SCREAM it into the phone.

Which simply exacerbates their problem of white noise.

Making it so that I can't understand their name.

Again.

And while they're getting angry, I'm trying to keep from laughing. I usually just end up making up a name for them. Cross my fingers, hope that it's right.

Or the great people who called in on 4/20. "Would you like silverware in the bag?"

"....SuuuUUUUuuuure!"

Umm... Okay... Just silverware, nothing to get excited about sir.

Or the people at the Rise Against concert that I went to with Jen last week.

Concerts are essentially an excuse for all of the potheads, drunks, and bad dancers to emerge from their holes and mingle with the rest of society.

And it is absolutely hilarious.

Like the one girl who got so excited she started whipping her hair, and then almost fell over because she was completely wasted.

And you could always tell when somebody took a puff of weed, because this nice consolidated little cloud would slowly rise into the air.

Puff... OH LOOK! someone's gettin' high over there.

Then there were people getting hammered while standing in the line. Talk about time-efficient.

But enough about stupid people. Because honestly, I could go on all day.

But I would rather not.

And I'm sure you don't want me to either.

And You're Being Educated?

Oh, school. Nothing like a good long two and half weeks off to make you really appreciate the wealth of stupidity contained within its walls.

I mean, seriously. Some of those people... I wonder how they function.

And it's not only the people who ask stupid questions in class. Granted, there are quite a few of them too, but I'm talking about the people to which common sense is apparently a foreign concept.

Exhibit A: The girl wearing her cheerleading uniform in honor of (and excitement for) the boys basketball game tonight which, may I say, was quite ecstatically publicized. Now, school spirit is great and all. I personally don't really partake in it, because let's admit it, most of the time it makes you look like a fool. But hey, if that's what floats your boat, go get 'em tiger.

But the problem that I had with this girl was that her outfit made me stop and wonder: Why? In the thoughtful way of the cheer coach, cheerleaders all have a cheer sweatsuit for those days when it is not actually mini skirt weather. However, today apparently did not make the grade of "not mini skirt weather." Because this particular cheerleader was proudly sporting a short skirt.

I mean short.

Like, cheer short.

You could practically see her big ol' cheer granny panties.

There is snow on the ground, and yet this girl found it necessary to show her school spirit by sacrificing the outer layer or her skin, and probably coagulating the better part of the blood in her extremities.

Of course, I would be lying to say that I was altogether surprised by this behavior. The cheerleading population at Niwot does not leave the rest of us with very high expectations.

Exhibit B of, shall we say, "challenged" people at Niwot: The ones who don't realize that when they talk and the whole class laughs, it's not because we think what they say is funny. Actually, we just think they're morons.

Now these people are not new. They have been these people, and will continue to be these people, throughout their entire high school lives. I have only been graced with the presences of the most obnoxious specimen this year, however, in my A.P. classes.

You know, just because they're advanced placement classes, I didn't know that having enough obscure trivia about the presidents stored up in your brain that you can answer practically every question on a worksheet that is intended to be a joke in government class was suddenly considered cool. In fact, I'm pretty sure that it's still just an unnecessarily dorky showcase of how little of a social life you actually have. Oh, and the history lesson on the origin of the S in Ulysses S. Grant's name was . . . well . . . yeah. It was nice.

Don't take this the wrong way though. As much as I may want to punch those people in the throat when they start talking, they definitely spice up the lecture material by adding inappropriate peals of giggles to the otherwise sedate and lethargic mumbles and bumbles of the rest of the class. So don't stop with your social inadequacy, please. It's really quite entertaining.

Unfortunately, no matter how many good internal laughs you get out of them, there are some voices that make you go:

"Gee, aren't you glad to hear that voice again?"