No, this is not the MTV show, this is a girl that I actually don't mind being around. I just know way too much about her life. Her identifying factor is that she had a baby last semester. On the first day of class, when we had to introduce ourselves, that's honestly what she said when she mentioned something interesting about herself. She and the military lady chat about the military (the teen mom's dad is in the air force) and children and discipline and doctors and all-in-all unsavory topics that make me not want to have kids. Such as this conversation I overheard on a recent Thursday:
TM: "I just had to take my baby to get his shots. It was so hard!!"
ML: "Oh I know that feeling! I wouldn't even take my kids when they were babies. I'd make my mom do it. I'd be like, 'Mom, I don't want to see them in pain, you do it!'" (laughs)
TM: "Yeah, his father won't even do it, so I have to be the bad guy. Oh my gosh, it sucks."
ML: "Just appreciate it now, when they're babies. Wait until they're older and mouthing off at you every chance they get. You'll be wishing for those days...[goes off into an unrelated story about her kids]"
FL: "When's this f*cking class going to start, let's go."
TM: "Yeah, some people have places they need to be, like a baby they need to pick up from the daycare center, jeez."
Great for you, teen mom. I bet you're an awesome mom and extremely lucky to still be with the baby's father. It seems like you're providing a relatively stable life for your child. Once it becomes something that we all have to hear about, that's when I say enough. Being a teen mom is not wearing a badge saying, "YAY I'm a mom!" It's doing your job. Thanks for sharing your weird stories about kids that I won't need to know for about ten years. My uterus aches just thinking about it.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Military Lady
The military lady isn't actually in the military, her husband is, but you would think she is because that's all she ever talks about. Granted, I don't even sit near her during our actual lab, but I know basically her entire life story thanks to the 10 minutes I spend waiting in the hallway for our instructor to let us into the lab (aka torture chamber). So before we get into the torture chamber, I sit there across from the f*ck lady and the military lady and try to sit and concentrate on my lab workbook, but can't help overhearing some of their conversations.
ML: "This is my husband's FIFTH tour of duty being a bomb tech, and I just want him to come home to me and our four kids. I never know how he's going to act when I talk to him on the phone; sometimes he's in a good mood, and sometimes he's just going to explode. My 13-year-old mouthed off to me the other day, and I made her sit in the corner in front of all her friends. That embarrassed her so bad. She's gonna learn to respect me in my house. My husband, all he'd have to do is growl at her and she'd listen."
FL: "When is this f*cking class going to start?"
ML: "I had to get up at two in the morning today so I could catch my freaking plane so I could go to this class, and if she's not here I'm going to be pissed. Do you know how early I have to get up? Do you know how much driving I have to do? I don't want to be here any more than you do. This is my last freaking semester here and I NEVER HAVE TO BE IN THIS STATE AGAIN. Except my mother-in-law lives here. I guess I have to visit her because I feel guilty."
When the instructor finally opens the door to the torture chamber, I couldn't be happier to be rid of this other middle-aged, clearly doesn't belong here, deeply unhappy woman. The military lady is the ultimate oversharer. She's constantly giving unsolicited advice to the teen mom (I'll talk about her in my next blog post) and sharing intimate information about her personal life with whoever happens to be within earshot. Trust me, military lady, I can't wait until you never have to be in this state again. I can only hope your mother-in-law lives far away enough that we never have to be within earshot, either.
P.S. I feel really, really bad for your kids. I hope you enjoy the day when the only reason they visit you when you're old is because they "feel guilty."
ML: "This is my husband's FIFTH tour of duty being a bomb tech, and I just want him to come home to me and our four kids. I never know how he's going to act when I talk to him on the phone; sometimes he's in a good mood, and sometimes he's just going to explode. My 13-year-old mouthed off to me the other day, and I made her sit in the corner in front of all her friends. That embarrassed her so bad. She's gonna learn to respect me in my house. My husband, all he'd have to do is growl at her and she'd listen."
FL: "When is this f*cking class going to start?"
ML: "I had to get up at two in the morning today so I could catch my freaking plane so I could go to this class, and if she's not here I'm going to be pissed. Do you know how early I have to get up? Do you know how much driving I have to do? I don't want to be here any more than you do. This is my last freaking semester here and I NEVER HAVE TO BE IN THIS STATE AGAIN. Except my mother-in-law lives here. I guess I have to visit her because I feel guilty."
When the instructor finally opens the door to the torture chamber, I couldn't be happier to be rid of this other middle-aged, clearly doesn't belong here, deeply unhappy woman. The military lady is the ultimate oversharer. She's constantly giving unsolicited advice to the teen mom (I'll talk about her in my next blog post) and sharing intimate information about her personal life with whoever happens to be within earshot. Trust me, military lady, I can't wait until you never have to be in this state again. I can only hope your mother-in-law lives far away enough that we never have to be within earshot, either.
P.S. I feel really, really bad for your kids. I hope you enjoy the day when the only reason they visit you when you're old is because they "feel guilty."
The F*ck Lady
I came up with a really fitting name for this lady. She's not the most interesting of them all, but she has one specifically irritating characteristic: she says f*ck like some people use the word "like."
The f*ck lady should not be in a class filled mostly with freshmen fulfilling a gen-ed requirement. She is about twenty years older than all of us and she acts like she has always better places to be. She's Canadian, remarried, and talks way too much about how bratty her stepchildren are. And brags about how much of a "harda$$" stepmom she is that the kids are afraid of her. Frankly, we're all afraid of her here at the Bio lab scene. When we get to lab, if we don't get into class at 4:30 on the dot, her conversations with me (not that I actually want to be conversing with her; she just happens to be nearby) go something like this.
FL: "When is she going to let us into this f*cking class? I can't f*cking stand this. I f*cking want to go home, you know? This is f*cking bullsh*t. I'm just going to f*cking leave. Let's go."
ME: "Uh, I think she's in there. Just give it a few minutes."
Sometimes, f*ck lady, I don't even know if you're talking to me. You always wear your stupid bluetooth headset that makes you look like you're talking to the air. You should probably realize that NOBODY wants to be in Bio lab and you need to stop acting like you're the only one being forced into the torturous procedures of our education system. And, for the love of all things good in the world, stop saying f*ck.
The f*ck lady should not be in a class filled mostly with freshmen fulfilling a gen-ed requirement. She is about twenty years older than all of us and she acts like she has always better places to be. She's Canadian, remarried, and talks way too much about how bratty her stepchildren are. And brags about how much of a "harda$$" stepmom she is that the kids are afraid of her. Frankly, we're all afraid of her here at the Bio lab scene. When we get to lab, if we don't get into class at 4:30 on the dot, her conversations with me (not that I actually want to be conversing with her; she just happens to be nearby) go something like this.
FL: "When is she going to let us into this f*cking class? I can't f*cking stand this. I f*cking want to go home, you know? This is f*cking bullsh*t. I'm just going to f*cking leave. Let's go."
ME: "Uh, I think she's in there. Just give it a few minutes."
Sometimes, f*ck lady, I don't even know if you're talking to me. You always wear your stupid bluetooth headset that makes you look like you're talking to the air. You should probably realize that NOBODY wants to be in Bio lab and you need to stop acting like you're the only one being forced into the torturous procedures of our education system. And, for the love of all things good in the world, stop saying f*ck.
What this is about.
First off, I have to say that I really don't mind my actual biology lecture. It's sort of interesting, sometimes, and my teachers try to be a little creative.
But the absolute worst thing in the world is when I have to go to lab and actually put into practice all of the crap I've learned, or supposed to have learned at least. It's not the lab itself that's so horrible, only that just adds to it. It's the people I'm forced to interact with that I'm going to be discussing here. I just can't even deal with them in real life, so I'm going to blog about them.
I'll start by profiling them like my favorite FBI agents on Criminal Minds. Later I'll add some anecdotes about the crazy things they do as this semester progresses. It'll make you laugh, but mostly, it will probably make you cry. Or at least feel sorry for me. Maybe that will help me get through it, and add some humor to an excruciating two hours of my life per week that I'll never get back.
NOTE: All conversations with people being profiled are true snippets of conversations I've either had or overheard, but are also highly dramatized.
But the absolute worst thing in the world is when I have to go to lab and actually put into practice all of the crap I've learned, or supposed to have learned at least. It's not the lab itself that's so horrible, only that just adds to it. It's the people I'm forced to interact with that I'm going to be discussing here. I just can't even deal with them in real life, so I'm going to blog about them.
I'll start by profiling them like my favorite FBI agents on Criminal Minds. Later I'll add some anecdotes about the crazy things they do as this semester progresses. It'll make you laugh, but mostly, it will probably make you cry. Or at least feel sorry for me. Maybe that will help me get through it, and add some humor to an excruciating two hours of my life per week that I'll never get back.
NOTE: All conversations with people being profiled are true snippets of conversations I've either had or overheard, but are also highly dramatized.
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