No, I am not pregnant. Stop asking me. You know who you are. STOP asking me. Asking me 4 times a day is not going to make me pregnant. You know that I am a contrarian and that every time you ask me, I am on the other end of the phone, taking handfuls of birth control pills. And chasing them with red ruby martinis.
Back to the news.
I got my letter yesterday from Local Community College. "Congratulations, you have been accepted!" Complete with an exclamation point. I love exclamation points. I know they are overused (often by myself) but sometimes a little shouting is in order.
D: Did you think you weren't going to get into community college?
K: Ok, so I wasn't as nervous as, say, when I applied for law school, but you never know. Maybe they were going to deny me for attending too many colleges in my lifetime. Over colleging.
D: Well congratulations, babe.
It then took me 55 minutes to register for a web design class. Fifty-five blanking minutes. I don't want to start a derogatory tirade about community colleges since I am a graduate, but WTH??? My husband thought that this was by far the funniest thing he had ever seen. His wife unable to register for community college. I guess you can be snotty when you went to a pseudo Ivy League university?
Turns out I needed to know that the code for the summer 2006 term is 2063. 2063. Who would have thought that I couldn't figure that one out? I mean, it's so user-friendly and logical.
Fifty-five minutes. If there was bus service to school, I'm sure mine would be short.
Maybe I am pregnant.