gooey butter cake

so, time here has been good. except for how i was spacing out so much in the early morning round of interviews with the deans. i did manage to mention the JVC at every possible turn. donna, i did not say one word about mrs. beasley or the thin sheet -- "the wall" -- that separated our selves, but people still are in disbelief when i explained that 9 of us lived in community. and when i reminisce about shoveling the roof with you, their mouths are agape. if only i wound up and offered up the stories about grilling with ed's headlamp in the total darkness.

i digress, i picked up when i realized that i was spacing out because i took two nighttime cold/flu tablets. i also realized that the potted plants in the research officer's cheery suite were not in fact trying to stroke my face or call my name. miss bird will no doubt appreciate that directly after i realized this, i announced it to the luncheon and took some license to be freer with my words. as such, when one asked: do you bike? i launched into the stories of being an award winning biathlete. i even explained how, miss bird, you would be cross for my mention of this, how you told me that the statute of limitations has expired on this front.

so my syphilis joke...
when the "concierge" teased that the arrival of one from detroit (#2 most violent city in the country) to st. louis (#1 most violent city in the country), i shot back (har har: i shot back), "look i hail from baltimore, the syphilis capital of the u.s. i am not worried about being targeted here in the lou." the chairperson, who was dropping me off, seemed amused. i think. the concierge got it.

i didn't look my best here. my skin was just as blotchy as mr. cruise's during his wedding weekend. no really, have you seen the photographs in people? look at their bachelor party, his skin was pink-ish red and blotchy. so was mine. and i need a major rethink of my hair-do.

and i wore my tahari pant suit and a blouse. i have concluded, on me, one tahari pant suit+ one white plaid cotton nara camicie blouse=corporate lesbian.
julia, i fear you would not have liked this look. you would have intervened and told me that this was tired. just like you did when we laid eyes on that one curator's partner at the fancy reception in baltimore.

the job talk went well despite my inability to open the powerpoint. i studiously avoided running my mouth. i grew impatient and frustrated but stewed in front of the crowd in silence with deliberation. internally i was so freaking out, my deodorant supremely failed, but i didn't start imploring "sharon, sharon, sharon." as i tried when i first met j!s!s! in paris.


okay: here's a bevy of trouble: lindsay, paris and britney? and did brittany murphy develop a british accent? michael richards looks like a bewildered damn fool. and shame on jesse for offering him absolution. i am with my man the right rev. al sharpton: apology not accepted.

want to know what's up in the college? send me an email off blog and i will fwd the public call the women issued in my absence tonight in advance of the meeting with the dean tomorrow.


go on rafael correa. bush is dimwitted.