I'm learning already

I spent 9 hours on Sunday cooking enough freeze-ahead meals to feed us for over a month. Yep, I thought that was a bit ambitious too, except the thought occurred to me after I hit the halfway point and the kitchen looked like a war zone. If in class tonight Ms. "I expect perfection" (heretofore dubbed Ms. IEP) asks me why I have not memorized the assigned chapters (chapters inside of chapters! Holy reading, Batman) and the video, I will dazzle her with tales of full-burner use, the Great Foil Massacre and being up to my neck in 4 kinds of cheese.

(Question: What does it mean when you are up to your neck in cheese? Punch line: You don't have nearly enough cheese! Ha! Ha! Oh, my, I'm crying, really, I slay me.)

(Oh man, I love cheese.)

I did watch the video twice, which is probably 26 times short of what Ms. IEP wanted, but the video? That is over an hour of watching someone get a massage? With the droning voiceover and the rhythmic strokes? It was so hypnotic I just-zzzzz.

So yes, there was some slacking this weekend. I also wanted to mention our afternoon of running off to help someone with a lithium overdose (how, exactly, were Monk and I planning to save the day? That, my friends, remains a great unanswerable), but I suppose there's nothing comical or entertaining about mental illness. Except when there is! But I should probably keep some things confidential, or whatever.

I had the brilliant idea of recording myself reading the text book. This way, I can "read" during my eternal (infernal!) commuting. This is a good idea in theory, but you tend to miss a lot when you're busy calling everyone else on the road a jackass. The read-aloud technique is also good for discovering how many words you can mispronounce in one sitting (from the recording: "...radiating from the neener...fashi..ommm...neer..flummor... fuck!"). I did learn a little, though I doubt it will impress anyone in class tonight:

1) I have somehow retained my Chicago-tinted Midwestern accent. Who knew?

2) Massage therapists do not say "ass crack." The term is "gluteal cleft." Squirming yet?

3) From the book, regarding protecting the client's modesty (keeping the right parts covered at all times), in the scenario where the sheet accidentally slips: "...a look of horror on your face only makes an uncomfortable situation worse." So, I guess that means not exclaiming something like "Oh my GEE-OH-DEE!!! What the hell is in your GLUTEAL CLEFT?!!!!"

1 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

That last comment made me laugh out loud. Hilarious. And I learned something from you today.... Gluteal cleft... I didn't know it had a name.

10:58 PM  

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