Opening a Blog Post with, “Nothing much really happened this week…” is a bad idea. As a reader, I certainly wouldn’t feel compelled to continue reading the post, which will probably detail the author’s grocery shopping trip, or something just as trivial. Of course, a talented author would be able to craft an entertaining tales set in a shopping center (ie. John Updike’s A&P, which was one of a series of stories we read in high school that seem deliberately chosen to depress teenagers with the thought of growing old), but I don’t think that caliber of writer would open with “Nothing much really happened this week…”
I was actually contemplating opening this post with the kind of phrase I just bemoaned, but upon further thought, I realized that that isn’t even true: lot happened to me this week. But even more happened to Theresa, so let us continue from her perspective:
“I had such a good week. First of all, it was my birthday on Saturday. I would tell you how old I am, but a real woman never discloses such information except to a select, inner circle. Randy, my sweet, sweet husband who is pretty much the best guy in the entire world—smart, funny and exceedingly handsome—threw me a surprise birthday party. Except that he told me it was happening that morning instead of having everyone jump out at me when I come home. So, I took him out shopping to buy a new party game. Even though he brought up the entirely reasonable idea that we didn’t need to spend $30 on a game because most parties are naturally enjoyable without formal entertainment, I was cute enough to convince him to purchase “Apples to Apples.” I love that game. And we did end up playing it--So there to him. Anyway, the party was really fun. Randy invited all of my new Virginia friends (or at least the ones who are still around this summer), and we just hung out for a few hours and ate cake (which Randy baked: he’s so sweet, and did I mention handsome?)
Next, I (finally) started my new job at the student health center. It is kind of slow but otherwise alright. The funniest part is that my boss is totally like Michael Scott from “The Office,” except that everyone at work actually likes him. I mean, he plays practical jokes (like Vaseline on the telephone receivers), sends e-mail forwards that he thinks are hilarious, but are really quite lame (such as one with a fat butt and farting noises), and likes to take the staff on retreats (the last one getting a little out of hand, such that the boss was actually tied up). So, I guess that makes me Pam. And Randy is Jim. Even though we don’t actually work in the same office, we do e-mail each other and sometime eat lunch together. Like on Friday, we were eating on the Lawn, and I was feeding this squirrel bits of my apple. But then it kept getting closer and closer, so I started to get a little worried. So then Randy threw the core at the squirrel and hit it right on the head! What ever happened to its animal instincts? After getting hit, the squirrel just stood there motionless for a little while, as if it forgot that it was even a squirrel. It must have thought it was a rock or something. But then it was like, 'I want that apple core. But rocks don’t like apples, squirrels do! I must be a squirrel.' So it grabbed the core and ran up a tree.
The next cool thing was we went to Buena Vista to visit Randy’s Grandparents. They invited us out for a birthday dinner and then went to a play, 'Kiss me Kate,' which is a musical based on The Taming of the Shrew. It was really fun."
So there you have it—“Life by Theresa,” by Randal. As for me, I’ve been working, handing out with Theresa (see above mentioned activities), and greatly enjoying not going to school. I am still doing research at the school, but the good part is, when it comes time to quit (usually 4:30, but really any time I choose), I just shut my books (or my computer, as it is) and put off my work until tomorrow. Then I got home and veg. Or hang out with our friends. It's the life, I’m telling you.
1 comments:
First off Randy, I can't believe that you can fill a whole paragraph with... well... not much. That's what compels me to read on.
Second, you hit the squirrel in the head? What's wrong with you? tsk tsk tsk. Theresa might be a little off calling you sweet, even if you did bake a cake, with cloves.
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