Dear fates, or furies, or whomever I may have offended recently,
I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I’ve done I apologize and I take full responsibility for and I apologize to your mother and brothers and sisters and any other family members I may have offended. I promise not to do whatever it was I did again ever.
There was, Peeps, a fire.
After weeks of guts in a knot, days of letting my gaze slant off the practice sheets lest the pure math venom blind me, after hours of jittery mess we have exactly nothing. Zilch. Zero.
I was in the middle of question eight, which I hope to our good lord Stephen was approximately a quarter to a half way through my own personal version of hell, wondering how to find the fucking common denominator with a fucking variable squared in half of one side, when the screen went, like some horror movie freakshow, completely blank. Then the lights went out.
The prof watching us all stared back at us, mirroring our horrified gazes, particularly of those who were taking several tests in one and who had almost completed them all. We stared at each other like drowning statues for a moment when the prof stammered that we’d better go outside; that nothing like that had happened to her before. That maybe the computers saved our answers, but maybe not.
We followed, some of us clinging vainly to the hope that as we left the building there would be a “thump” and a “whirrrrr” and the lights and computers would spring to life where we’d left them, like the primer being set in Jurrasic Park.
Instead, as we left the building, the fire alarm began to blare and flash. “OH, SHITFUCKSHIT” would have been what you recieved if you were telepathic.
A mere half an hour later the county sherrif (sherf?) confirmed that without water pressure or power of any kind we’d be unlikely to get back in the building tonight. I thought about how I arranged to leave work early, arranged child care, and arranged to try and not to vomit all over the computer in terror for zero gain. No gain. None.
I sought out some admissions people just to confirm that I didn’t need a placement test for astronomy and that they could hook me up, you know, if the building had lights. I spoke to one woman about the placement test and she said, “Oh, but College Algebra has a geometry requirement. You either have to have had two semesters of Geometry in high school or college of a C or higher, or you can test out of that part.”
Test. Out. Of. Geometry.
That I only passed because the teacher was a nice guy and didn’t want me to hate him forever.
17 years ago.
I loved her whole “of course” attitude. Because the geometry requirement was mentioned exactly NOWHERE in any of the literature. Not one place does it say that geometry is required. Then she said, “Of course you’ll have your high school transcripts”
OF COURSE. I’m 30! I graduted high school halfway across the country in 1993! OF COURSE, BITCH, I HAVE THEM RIGHT HERE IN YOUR ASS LET ME GET THEM WITH MY FOOT.
This school, and I’m not exaggerating here, is full of the dumbest people I have ever met in my entire life. They are all mouth-breathing fucktards of the highest degree, and it irks me beyond measure that my entire future may lay in the hands of Snooty McPoopsit and her gang of dipshits.
This has all been quite as bad as the dumbing-down prof who wouldn’t write me a goddamned referral despite my tattooing the completed form to her fucking forehead. I now must re-take the placement test, and if anyone could tell me how to find the common denominator of 3/ 2xsquared minus 4/x squared minus 3 that would be fucking MARVIE.
I must also contact my alma mater and pray to the Saint of Rate Equals Distance multiplied by Time that I actually took Geometry for two whole semesters and that I managed to hork up a C or better both times. The C or better there is a good chance, because I am still alive so neither parent had to shiv me, but two semesters of that shit? I highly, highly doubt it.
In which case we just hit the do-not-pass-go-go-directly-to-nowhere space on the board. High school algebra, College algebra, Statistics - Can do. High school algebra, GEOMETRY, College algebra, Statistics - Can’t do. There is not enough time before next fall. That means that I’d have to re-apply for fall 2009. But my GRE scores will have expired so I’ll have to retake that test probably without the six months tutoring I got before the first go-around.
I am, in a word, fucked, ladies and gentlemen. I’m drinking Mike’s hard lemonade, but somehow it isn’t enough.
Maybe this is fate’s way of telling me I’m just a goddamned secretary and to go and have another kid already.
A fire. I ask you.
