Setting: Classroom

Professor: We are having a vocabulary quiz on Wednesday, so make sure you bring your lists of words with you.  You should have about 10 words from each lecture, not each reading that we have done.

Student: Wait, so how many words do we need to have on it in total?

*Professor counts class days on syllabus*

Prof: There were 9 lectures so far…

Stupident: Yeah, but how many words do we need?

Professor: About 90.

Stupid Girl: WHAT?? 

I have so many issues with how this “went down” that I don’t even know where to start.  First of all, I don’t mean to sound like a super nerd because trust me, I am as lazy as the next average American (Okay, maybe not THAT lazy), but really we’ve known about this list from the beginning of the semester.  All you have to do is write the word in German and then write the English translation next to it.  It’s not rocket science, and the entire world is aware of Google Translate, so I do not see why this is difficult.  The homework is graded, so clearly if you handed it in, you had to have read the text, which means you also looked words up that you did not know previously.  Therefore, the work has already been done.  Secondly, there are no requirements about how difficult the 90 words have to be - you can literally pick any German word (like Dummkopf for example), and only 20 will actually be on the quiz.  To me this sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but if you want to bitch about this being difficult when you’re attending a Tier 1 university, fine. I really don’t even have a problem with the fact that you apparently could not look at the syllabus yourself and count to 9. No, no.  My issue here is that you of all people were accepted into the afore-mentioned university when you cannot even multiply 9 by 10 and that you are subsequently surprised when the answer is 90. 

She’s using this board to prep for her stint on Jeopardy.

I went bar hopping with a friend the other day.  We walked into a bar in the area of the bar we actually wanted to go to, which was closed, and at that moment I had no idea that I would get Query Quibbles gold in this place.  The bartender was probably drunk and definitely silly.  As my friend tried to crack the wifi code, she read in the reviews of the bar that someone had gotten food poisoning there.  Our hopes of going into a nacho-induced food coma were completely dashed and our fiery passion for drunken junk food was momentarily doused (until later on when it struck me that clearly Chiptole could save us).  The wifi password was never found, BUT the bartender did use a line that will go down in history as one the lamest nonsensical excuses for a switched order I have ever heard.

Setting: [censored so as not to get anyone in trouble aka paranoia]

*”Chef” (using this term so loosely it makes Pamela Anderson’s vagina seem constricting) saunters over carrying a plate with three slider burgers on it and reaches to put the plate down in front of us*

Chef: Ok, here you go.

Me: Thank you! (I thought it might have been free) *remembers food poisoning*

Bartender: Yeah, right there.

Friend: Wait…

Me: But…NO… *looks helplessly to my friend to salvage this sitch*

Friend aka Purple-Wigged Ninja Assassin: We didn’t order that.

Bartender: Oh right.  It was for her over there. *points to older gray-haired woman with white streaks in her hair*

Bartender (fumbling): …Sorry, there are just sooo many brunettes in here.

WHAT?!?!  I have black hair, my friend wore a purple wig, and the woman who actually ordered the food had white/grey hair! The only brunette in the bar was sitting on the exact opposite side of the place from us.  I personally blame the school system.  Not being a moron Color recognition really should be drilled more in Kindergarten.

For those of you who have trouble noting the distinctions:

Over the weekend, my family and I went out to eat at one of our favorite restaurants.  The food is amazing, and I have to say that we’ve been there many times and have never had even the slightest issue with the service.  In fact, I highly recommend this place.  HOWEVER, that does not mean that buffoonery does not work its way in every once in a while - I mean, hey, servers work long shifts and it’s not easy listening to the demands of nitwits all day, who ask you to repeat the specials 17 times.  My point is that a little delirium is to be expected, so I won’t be too cold-hearted on this one. Sorry to disappoint!

Setting: The Lobster House

The Sitch (yes, situation…derf!): We are all sitting down enjoying our seafood.  Kevin has just finished his Long Island Iced Tea that came in this cute little fancy cocktail glass. No, there wasn’t an umbrella in it.  

Kevin: Can I have another Long Island Iced Tea, please, when you get the chance?

*waiter walks away and reappears a minute later sans le cocktail explosif*

Waiter: How is everything?

All: Good.

Waiter: So you want another soda, sir?

Kevin: Uh…

He did disappear again right after the delayed “UH…” response and magically appear with a LI Tea.  Apparently, on City Island they look down on the Long Island concoction of goodness.  They’re such cool drunkards there that they consider that pussy shit soda.  Either that or they’re making a push to change the title - how do we know that a Long Islander created this drink anyway? 

Next time you feel like being stupid, look to the lobster!!

The second genius of the day was encountered in the Starbucks in Union Square.  I sat eating my glorious sandwich and drinking my grande Dark Pike Roast coffee in peace at a long table occupied by several rather serious looking people.  An ordinary looking peasant woman sits in one of the empty chairs and enjoys her coffee alongside us fine regal types. Just kidding.  Aside from me, they were all plebeians just like her. She picks up her phone, and this is what goes down:

Ordinary Yet Endearing Peasant Woman: “Hell-oo?”

(Yes, she was one of those.)

“Oh, you’re here??  I’m in a Starbucks..”

“Well looking out of it I see DSW like to my right and..*goes on to describe all the stores on that block*…and that big ticker thing - is it the National Debt? *ponders* Yeah, I think it’s the national debt.”

You poor soul, that “ticker” is the time.  As in military time.  And also a countdown of the time left in the day. It is not, nor has it ever been, a record of the country’s debt.  COMMON KNOWLEDGE FAIL. But I have to say as far as stupid questions goes, this really is not the worst.  Many have contemplated (and have failed to correctly guess) what the clock is.  I have to say I’m pretty tired of people getting it wrong, though.  I once heard someone guess it was the population of the city… o_O

On my way to the gym today I was walking behind a chick and a dude who I immediately knew would be worth eavesdropping on.  The girl was wearing a blue knit hat, like the ones they sell down in Chinatown, and instead of being the typical tiger or panda, it was in the form of Grover (could have been the Cookie turned Veggie Monster) from Sesame Street.  What ensued was one of the most asinine conversations imaginable, and I could just feel the stupid coming on. 

Setting: Union Square

Cookie Queen: He only has like really healthy stuff…you know all organic and whatever.

Guy: Yeah, I hear you.

……the conversation goes on and is somewhat indistinguishable due to loud street noises and an unfortunate span of distance but definitely still about the same healthy deli/store/restaurant/organicshitfest….

CQ: Generally *pause while she gets distracted by something shimmery*…well generally, I eat really healthy, so every time I go there I’m like, “Can I just get a juice??”

Guy: Haha, yeah.  Where is this place?

[address censored]

This girl, aside from having terrific fashion sense, has an amazing talent for narrative.  I was so absorbed in this story I almost overshot the block my gym is on.  I am surprised I did not get struck by a vehicle as I listened in rapture to the riveting description of this health place.  It is a mystical establishment where one can apparently avoid all the fattening fast food they would obviously be selling and opt for juice.

Anyway, point of this post is I am so happy that the healthy FOOD this girl elects to be part of her diet are various juices.  She is an inspiration, a model, if you will, that I can aspire to as I ellipticize my way to fitness.  I, too, will be ordering juice tomorrow…so thank you, random hat-wearing divine creature, wherever you are out there.

“What do you think is more filling, Charles - the organic Kombucha or regular old organic Cran??”

This is the beginning of my blog, so many of you may not know that I am incredibly irritated by the excessive and/or incorrect use of the word “literally.”  There is no need to make statements like, “I was literally reading until 4am.”  What does the literally do for you there?! I don’t understand! Adding the word “literally” does not prove that you’re not exaggerating! Anyway, so what follows is one of my favorite “literally moments” of all time:

Setting: Union Square

Girl A: “You guys…you DO NOT understand how late I was to class this morning…I had like no time.  I mean, I was LITERALLY running!”

Girl B: “Damn..”

Nitwit A: “No…like I was LITERALLY running down the block like a freakin’ maniac…literally. It was like crazy.”

(sexier version of this girl on her way to class)

Girl B: “Did you get there on time?!”

Future Neurosurgeon A: “I was like two minutes late..”

WHAT??  First of all, how would you not be literally running?? Were you SPIRITUALLY running?  How about psychologically running??  I mean, clearly, all of these other modes of running are possible.  Or did you mean you were not just walking, or sprinting for that matter, but kicking up pavement with how hard you were galloping down the street?  Could you have been mentally running…through lists of more creative ways to complain about how much you had to hustle to class?  Maybe you should take more classes so they can teach you how to speak like a moderately intelligent human being.  Second of all, the exaggeration and overuse of “like” should disqualify you from contributing to the gene pool.

The setting: Kitchen Counter, Apartment

-“Wait…how do you spell embarrassing?? I never remember.”

-“Two r’s and two s’s…the second r is silent!”