hilbillies' whiskers

I drove down to my mum's house today and saw all the lovely damp chappies out in the ditches with waders and sandbags--particularly  as I reached Levasy, which was, in fact, closed.  The city, that is.  Of course, if I had read the news before I left, I would have known that all the bottom land by the river was under water.  In fact, my lovely state has made national news! I take the following quote concerning the water level of the Missouri River from the MSN home page:

'The water got within “a hillbilly’s whisker from going over in several places,” Holt County Sheriff Kirby Felumb said Thursday.'

Fortunately, I was never tempted to drive my car through high water, become stranded, and get rescued from my car roof by a helicopter unit in order to make my television debut on the five o'clock news.  I did, however, pull over at one point in order to move a rather precarious turtle from the middle of the highway.  In case anyone is keeping track, yes, it is still raining and, as such, the mosquitos are going to be murder this summer.

I am so excited to go to Colorado.

Currently Reading Lord Jim (Penguin Classics) By Joseph Conrad see related

You-shall-hear-of meeee!

Currently Reading To the Lighthouse By Virginia Woolf, Eudora Welty (Introduction) see related

house-trained, though occassionally irate . . .

FOR SALE: One (1) soon-to-be graduated English major.  Will work for food.  And chocolate.

I had dinner at the president's house (of Jewell, not the US) and Mrs. Sallee (the, erm, "first lady"?) asked me the inevitable, "What are you doing after graduation, Lindsey?"  Here's what I've got so far:
*Have lunch
*burn a couple books
*attend a celebration bash of some sort
*sleep without feeling guilty

Beyond that, I'm tapped.

This is the last week of mock comps (dramatic tragedy and modernism this week).  I'm not too worried because I don't think I have anywhere to go but up from the last one (I spent 3 paragraphs discussing the shift in the imagery of Protestant lyric poetry in the Renaissance in the works of Crashaw . . .unfortunately Crashaw, it turns out, was a devout Catholic . . .). 

I have decided that, because the entire English Dept. was revamped in my absence and I have never spoken to many of the profs writing and grading my exams, I am like a mail-order bride.  Seriously.  My unknown future hinges on the whim of a stranger and my abiity to interpret that stranger's desires and fufill his/her unstated expectations.  If my intended doesn't like my style or expects something I didn't anticipate, it's bacl to the old country for me (I shared this simile with Chelsi and her reaction was: "A mail order bride? From what country?" Leave it to the IR major).

mmm, coffee.

Currently Reading Paradise Lost (Norton Critical Editions) By John Milton, Gordon Teskey see related

bah.

spring break is a myth.  and i must get out of retail before i contract a disease from cleaning out fitting rooms (i swear, the things people think it's acceptable to do in there . . .). 

this time last year, i was in ireland.  but let's not toture ourself.

Currently Reading John Donne's Poetry (Norton Critical Edition) By John Donne see related

in my head

You know that poor frazzled girl at the store, folding the shirts you're throwing on the floor? This is what she's really thinking (but tries to hold in so she can continue to peddle her charm to the dregs of humanity for pennies):

YOU: "Do you have cuddleduds?"
HER: "Gosh, I hope not . . ."

YOU: "I just wanted you to know that I think the selection here is just terrible."
HER: "COR-POR-A-TION.  I have absolutely NO say in what shows up in the boxes, nor do I know when/if "they" will ever ship us more."

YOU (looking over some Nike or Under Armour new tech-fleece runners warmups): "WOW! These are SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO expernsive! Do they ever go on sale?"
HER: No.  And I don't care.  Nothing we sell is essential for living.  If you can't afford it, don't buy it.

YOU: "When are you getting another shipment of coats?"
HER: "Next winter."

YOU: "Where is the infant section?"
HER: "Baby Gap, down the street."

YOU: "That bathroom is filthy."
HER: "neato."

YOU: "You mean, you don't have anymore of these ANYwhere?"
HER: "You caught me.  I was holding one back.  Let me just pull it out of my ass for you."

YOU: "Where is all your hockey stuff?"
HER: "Canada."

YOU (having pushed the fitting room bell): "Oh, miss! I need a fitting room."
HER (waiting for you to move so she can unlock said door): "Fancy that! Lucky I just happened to dash down here from the office for no reason!"

YOU: "Does this ever go on sale?"
HER: "One second--let me consult my special price-telepathy . . . no."

YOU (lifting your shirt in the middle of the sales floor): "What size sports bra do these take?"
HER: "Sweet Jesus, save me."

YOU: "What size waist is a medium?"
HER: "If you've made it to the age of fifty without knowing what size you wear, I can't help you."

YOU (handing over a piece of paper with nothing but a 10 digit internet item number on it): "Do you have this?"
HER: "Hm.  No."

YOU: "Have you seen my little boy?"
HER: "You mean the hellion running up the down escalator and screaming? It's taken care of."

YOU: "I just want to know that I've been waiting for a very long time and I don't appreciate it."
HER: "Just because we're called "Dick's" doesn't mean you all have to come here."

YOU (as the fitting room bell rings for the third time in 2 minutes): Oh, haha, sorry, my little girls like to play with the buttons."
HER (out of breath because she has run across the store again): "!#$*"

There will be more to come I'm sure . . .

CMRS mini-reunion tomorrow!!! Yea for Brittany!