Two Complaints
You may remember that I recently complained about a student who keeps showing up unscheduled wanting math tutoring. My complaint is that the math tutor has talked with him about wanting to help him, but he won't call before coming (and he walks 45 minutes). Well, today he did it again. He handed me the paper I'd given him last time, with our office's number on it. Did you call? No, I just came.
The second complaint is that an upset student just came to my desk and placed her schedule on it. Where's this class. Which one. This one. Pointed at the schedule. I've been all over this school. They don't tell you where to go. Did you try 105? No. Well, here, under room, see. 105. Oh.
Gone!
I realize you probably do not care at all, but I will vent those gripes anyway.
Today my department is managing a sort of soup kitchen-esque holiday buffet for needy students. I'm outside of the loop on this one, but as far as I can figure out, no criteria for involvement was set and no advertising was done. I can tell you that I'm looking at two palettes of potato chips, 24 cans of Pepsi products, and a grocery sack full of pumpkin pies that someone left by the filing cabinet.
Sarah and I have talked about going to see 2001 tonight in a theater, which sounds yes, I know, FUCKING AMAZING, but Sarah is sick and anyway I feel lazy and broke after my library shenanigans (as those of you on Facebook may now, I now owe the Orlando Library System $53.95, most of which is for late fees and $19.95 of which is for the loss of a lameass book that I only checked out because there was a bathysphere on the cover. This is why nobody should read anymore) and have developed an amazing lust for intricate food after Sarah decided she's too good for pizza on Thanksgiving and I started combing through recipes online. Last night I pretested baked apples and they were yes, FUCKING AMAZING. I don't know if photos can be mailed in with remote posts, but I will try:
Never mind, tech difficulties. But here's what you do: preheat the oven to 375. Core the apples. Fill them with dried cherries. Toss brown sugar and cinnamon everywhere. Toss them on your cat. Throw that shit (not the cat) in the oven for 40 minutes. Top with vanilla ice cream if you're hoping to contract diabetes. Eat while watching the new Venture Bros. online.
The second complaint is that an upset student just came to my desk and placed her schedule on it. Where's this class. Which one. This one. Pointed at the schedule. I've been all over this school. They don't tell you where to go. Did you try 105? No. Well, here, under room, see. 105. Oh.
Gone!
I realize you probably do not care at all, but I will vent those gripes anyway.
Today my department is managing a sort of soup kitchen-esque holiday buffet for needy students. I'm outside of the loop on this one, but as far as I can figure out, no criteria for involvement was set and no advertising was done. I can tell you that I'm looking at two palettes of potato chips, 24 cans of Pepsi products, and a grocery sack full of pumpkin pies that someone left by the filing cabinet.
Sarah and I have talked about going to see 2001 tonight in a theater, which sounds yes, I know, FUCKING AMAZING, but Sarah is sick and anyway I feel lazy and broke after my library shenanigans (as those of you on Facebook may now, I now owe the Orlando Library System $53.95, most of which is for late fees and $19.95 of which is for the loss of a lameass book that I only checked out because there was a bathysphere on the cover. This is why nobody should read anymore) and have developed an amazing lust for intricate food after Sarah decided she's too good for pizza on Thanksgiving and I started combing through recipes online. Last night I pretested baked apples and they were yes, FUCKING AMAZING. I don't know if photos can be mailed in with remote posts, but I will try:
Never mind, tech difficulties. But here's what you do: preheat the oven to 375. Core the apples. Fill them with dried cherries. Toss brown sugar and cinnamon everywhere. Toss them on your cat. Throw that shit (not the cat) in the oven for 40 minutes. Top with vanilla ice cream if you're hoping to contract diabetes. Eat while watching the new Venture Bros. online.
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