I forgot to mention Tuesday that my wife took part in graduation ceremonies Monday to officially acknowledge her earning a masters degree in public health nutrition. She graduated with an overall GPA of 3.9, a full three points higher than my GPA in my final semester at the erstwhile-named Moorhead State University. There's something to be said for not spending all of one's time drinking heavily and pining for lost loves, I suppose.
It can, at times, be a bit hard on my ridiculously fragile ego to be married to a woman who is so much smarter than me, but the bonus is that she is trained to make me eat properly so I can suffer the humiliation for an even greater period of time.
Me, age 74: "I feel great and I'm still dumb! Huzzah!"
Please help me in a discussion I am having with a co-worker. Do you find any problems with this?
The way that I've phrased that makes it sound like my co-worker are arguing over something. That's not true. We are in total agreeance*. My question is, do other people see what we're seeing?
I'm a dork. this made me laugh.
I hate to offend any of the fine North Carolinians who read this blog (like Greg) but, uhm, y'all's state is messed up. Key excerpt: "... after the horrors of Nazi Germany's attempts to form a master race, most states cut back their eugenics programs. Instead, North Carolina's increased its programs, targeting mostly poor black women."
Of course, I'm one to talk. Minnesota has the Swastikadome.
I thought about this today in response to No. 47 from Dave's post today: The first movie I ever cried over was "Sands of Iwo Jima," starring John Wayne (described on IMDb as "The greatest U.S. propaganda movie ever made."). I was home sick with the flu and watched it on cable. The movie is old enough that I think I'm safe in giving away the ending -- John Wayne dies. After scrapping all the way to the top of some damn hill he takes a bullet to the chest in a much-deserved moment of peace.
"I'm feelin' pretty good," he says.
In my grumpy, feverish, high school mindset I decided that it was a metaphor for life.
Here's another tragic true story. When I was in seventh grade, Sarah McNearney and I went "steady" for approximately two weeks. After I proved myself utterly undeserving of such an honor, she broke up with me via a note delivered by a friend. I was crushed. The hurt took years to go away.
What I'm trying to say is this: Daunte Culpepper, I know what you're going through, my brother.
*Thank you, Fred Durst, for your contribution to the English language.