Sweet Pickles

It was THAT kind of night...

and it was everything I wanted (and more) for my birthday.  I could not have asked for more booty-shakin'!  After whittling down the photos in my camera from last night from 221 to 125 that I could post on Facebook, it's hard to choose a single image to sum up the evening.  For those of you who couldn't be there, I hope this 'hands in the air/raising the roof' picture will give you a sense of the fun we had.  At one point, L-Hane turned to me in amazement and said, "Sweet Pickles, I've never seen so many people dancing at one time in O-Town!"  To which B-Whit responded, "I've never seen so many people dancing who I never thought I'd see dancing!"  I was so pleased with how great a time we had, that I'm already thinking this should become an annual event.  To those of you who were able to come, a very heartfelt thanks for making this my best birthday ever.  What a truly perfect way to celebrate the end of the semester, and the end of my 20s.  It felt good to look out at that sea of smiling faces, and be able to call them my friends. 

A Positive Sign?

A while ago, I woke up from a 3-hour nap, feeling decent.  Not yet party-your-dick-off great, but good enough to make it to this evening's Farewell Dinner with our students and enjoy that (yay!).  What gives me the most hope for Saturday is the dream I had while napping.  I remember almost nothing of it except the last part...

I was out of beer in the house, but I remembered there was one more Coors Light tallboy in my truck.  Unfortunately, my truck was stranded somewhere along Lamar Blvd., just north of Starbrite Cleaners, for some unknown reason.  I was willing to hike to the truck and back home in order to get one more beer, but I was completely unwilling to change out of my pajama to do it.  I found the truck, got the single Coors Light out of the backseat, and started the walk back home before it dawned on me that I probably looked homeless and should consider not popping the top on my tallboy until I arrived back home, in case the police drove by.  But instead, I decided, "F*ck it."

Midday Thursday

Vodka gimlets might be on their way out of Sweet Pickles' world.  I love vodka gimlets as much as I love cocaine and unsafe sex, but as with those two, it's hard to know when to slow down.  Now that I'm nearing my 30th birthday, I have to realize that my body just can't do what it could when I was 20. 

Have you been seeing Wal-Mart's television commercials in which they promise to rock your world with how many check-out lanes they're gonna have open during the holiday season.  This, however, is a bald-faced lie.  Not just an exaggeration, but an Orwellian opposite of reality.  There were a grand total of 7 check-out stations open at lunch time today:  1 was the cigarette lane (10 items or less), 4 were express lanes (20 items or less), and 2 were for the rest of us poor suckers.  I was fifth in line behind four other customers, none of whom had less than $200 worth of merchandise to be checked out.  Uh, hello... it's DECEMBER!  I felt like leaving my shopping cart in line, marching over to the manager's desk, telling him or her "Don't piss on my head, and then have your national advertising campaign tell me it's raining," and then strike him or her across the face with an open palm. 

Headed from Wal-Mart to campus, I sat in traffic behind an SUV with plates from Anderson County, Tennessee, that had a blue-and-white bumpersticker in Hebrew language and with a Star of David.  I couldn't get close enough to make out what it said (not that my Hebrew is good enough to read it, unless it was something simple).  I don't know where Anderson County, Tennessee is, but I like their style.

I'll be heading back home in a while.  Before my 4:00pm final exam (in which we're sharing an international potluck dinner), I've got to cook.  I'm bringing latkes! 

Evening Summary

Tonight's final exam finished up at 9:45pm.  While I am relieved that the test-takers didn't need the full 3 hours (i.e., until 10:30pm), that shite is for the birds!  And I've got another one to give at 8:00am tomorrow.  At least I got some grading done during that time, and also worked on my syllabus for the Egyptian Art & Archaeology course I'm doing during the Wintersession.  Speaking of Wintersession, you know what chafes my ass?  When people spell "Intersession" as "Intercession."  It's a mini-session that occurs between the regular sessions, and hopefully does not involve anybody interceding.  I'm just sayin'.

This evening's post-it note discovery (under the metal beer cooler in the dining room):  "Gotcha slut!"  Which I interpret in two possible ways... either "Got you, slut!" or "Got yo' slut!"  Again, I like both.

It still feels unreal that I'll be flying home on Monday.  And that my birthday dancetravaganza is in just 4 more days!  Boy, does time fly when you're sluttin' it up!  Emailing back and forth with the dude at The Lyric, I couldn't wrap my mind around his suggestion that we hold the par-tay in their Red Star Bar if it's less than 100 people.  I told him we've already got 70 "attending," and 18 "maybe attending," and 47 "not yet responded," but asked if I could go down there and see WTF he was talking about.  N-Lope went with me.  Basically, the Red Star Bar is just when they curtain off the front half of the space to create a less cavernous venue for more intimate performances.  I wasn't sure I liked the sound of it, but when I saw it, I think it'll be best for us (I just don't understand why they gotta give it a separate name, other than just the front half").  I don't want peeps to feel intimidated about dancing inside a Taj Mahal-like space, plus I need other dancers close enough to grind on me, and everyone who isn't dancing to still be able to watch me while I'm dancing.  See ya there at 9:00pm, sluts!

I need to calm the hell down!

I'm up at the office, waiting to administer a final exam at 7:30pm (who makes this exams schedule?), and eating a takeout box of food that I ran in and got from the campus cafeteria.  All I got was some meatballs and gravy over rice, some lima beans, and some corn, but all of it is so GOOD!  Especially the lima beans and the corn.  It's better than anything I've had at a restaurant in quite some time.  I'm like, what did they put in this?  And tonight of all nights (i.e., continued-ugly evening of the year's ugliest day), this food is really hitting the spot.  Or, is that it, I wonder... has the weather got me so down that I now get horned up about corn and lima beans??  Regardless, I will not be posting a status-update on Facebook about how yummy they were.  Just here. 

Just a Quick List for Early Saturday Morning

 (Yes, 10:25am constitutes 'early'.)

Good news:  Snackbar can make my new favorite drink, vodka gimlets.  Bad news:  Snackbar can make my new favorite drink, vodka gimlets.

Last night's dream:  I was drinking the soft drink 7-Up and delighted to discover there were real chunks of actual lemon and lime in it, then pissed off when I woke up this morning and realized it was only a dream.

Today's testimony to the suckitude of new music in 2009:  The last 4 artists in my download history from iTunes = Bryan Ferry, Donna Summer, Romeo Void, and Prokofiev.  As some slut (M-Shan? L-Hane?) recently asked, isn't it about time that Justin Timberlake brought something back again?

Question 1:  Anyone up for a late lunch at the Turkish place later?  Sext me if you're interested and we'll get a plan together.

Question 2:  Anyone got any ideas why there's a post-it note that says "SLUTS 4 FREEDOM" inside my freezer?

-FIN-

Could I possibly love her any more than I already do?

Hanukkah came early for Sweet Pickles, in the form of DR-Rob.  At the Tasting Society's annual holiday party last night, there was a 'Dirty Santa' (euhhhhh!) gift exchange.  Sweet Pickles left with the present he stole from P-Rut and D-Hug (suckas!): four 40-oz. bottles of Colt 45 Malt Liquor (and a set of beer glasses, but who cares about that shit when 40s are involved?)!  And the badass who bought it, wrapped it up, and brought it, was none other then DR-Rob (my hero)!  My goal in life is to be just half that cool when I'm her age. 

While everyone else was going for the lameass gifts-of-booze, Sweet Pickles had his eyes on the prize.  I keep it real, bitches!  I'll be saving them until the night of my birthday, at which time I will be tipping a 40 to my homies.  Since I only have four, the first three readers to arrive at my house before dinner on the 12th will be able to tip a 40 to their homies with me.  Otherwise, I'll see ya at the club, chumps!

If there's one thing the past 2 weeks have taught me...

it's that people's parents loved gettin' it ON for Valentine's Day.  Everyone I know had a birthday during the last two weeks of November [apparently, St. Patrick's Day is what really put Daddy Pickles and Mama Pickles in the mood for sexy times].  Late November was TRAZY.  But the traziest was the birthday party we had for T-War at the Casa de Pickles.  For some idea of how we do it at Casa de Pickles, here are a few pics.  I hope those who were in attendance will be fully recovered by December 12th, in time to party your d*cks off at Sweet Pickles' own birthday whoirée... at 'the club,' bitches! 

 

It ain't a par-tay without Texas-shaped tortilla chips (imported from the Promised Land). 

 

The Circle of Death, used to play the new game I invented called "T-War Charades" (FYI, I am awesome).

The greatest birthday cake EVER.  I don't know which I like more... the  wishes I wrote in icing, or the candles I bought (bitch is OLD!).

Thanksgiving Recap

Another spectacular Thanksgiving was enjoyed by over 30 people at M-Lern's and N-Rif's 5th Annual Family-Free Thanksgiving.  For Sweet Pickles, it was an all-day (noon to 11:00pm) affair. 

Many traditions were observed again this year...

• Sweet Pickles (and R-Fuen) arrived first.
• Small kitchen fires resulted from attempts to 'light' the hot buttered rum in the skull mugs (although this year's inferno was by far the largest).
• J-Miz spent the hours prepping and cooking throughout the day.
• N-Man completed and addressed all of his holiday greeting cards for next month, while the group socializes around him.
• Gli italiani from Santa Barbara never disappoint, and always bring the fun.
• A lot of football was watched.
• A lot of booze was consumed.
• A lot of great food was feasted upon.

As always, it was great to spend the holiday with old friends and new.  This is why Thanksgiving is, hands down, my favorite holiday here in town.  To miss it would give me the sads!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tomorrow at noon, I'm off to M-Lern's and N-Rif's annual Thanksgiving celebration.  It's an all-day affair, to which Sweet Pickles is traditionally the first to arrive (and near the last to leave).  I have always enjoyed Thanksgiving (the meal is probably my all-time favorite food), but have really come to look forward to it more than usual, ever since M-Lern and N-Rif have been opening their richass house to a crowd of anywhere from 25 to 40 friends.  Since I'll be headed to some daytime boozing relatively early, I figured I'd take this opportunity to wish everyone a very ...

Bring on the retro booze!

This year, our local Tasting Society's holiday party (next month, at L-Ant's) has a Mad Men-inspired '60s theme.  I'm excited about the drink possibilities, and anticipate that many of the beverages to be sampled will be similar to the Governor and the Duchess (minus the pickled-beet garnish so fancied now by the generation who were actually drinking cocktails during the JFK- and LBJ-years).  If I had the money, I'd probably costume it up with something from Original Penguin by Munsingwear (Hanukkah/birthday gift ideas?). 

Since I'll most likely be going costume-less, I figure I'll try to bring something to eat that is true to the time period.  With that in mind, I phoned Mama Pickles and asked her to send my grandmother's recipe for a gelatin dessert salad that is still one of my faves.  To certify its authenticity, Mama Pickles informed me that she used the recipe as part of her final project in her Home Ec class in 1963, and got an A+ with it.  How authentic is that?!?! 

Thinking about the upcoming party reminded me of this Mad Men spoof.  It's worth reposting one more time.  It makes me want to get cozy in the Catskills and watch the Eichmann trial!

Really? Seriously... really???

Here's what's going on at Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe today...

This is just one of many powerful images captured by our reporter-on-the-scene, M-Add (see more on her Facebook page).  In case this looks too much like a bad flashback, let me date this photograph for you: TODAY.

Part of me (the negative part, that has anger-management issues) feels like our campus wouldn't be a magnet for this kind of lunacy if we had already tried to address these issues in a thoughtful way decades ago (like the rest of the country).  That part of me wants to take this picture and rub it in the face of the Ice-Chest Manifesto Person, screaming, "Look!  This is what your attitudes invite onto our campus during a nationally-televised football game.  Is the Klan what you have in mind every time you chant 'The South will rise again'?  Because, in the oblique language of dog whistles, that is exactly what these strap-ons are hearing.  Now go on up there and stand with your costumed compatriots, and get your picture taken, MF.  I'll play From Dixie with Love on my boom-box, and you get your boys ready to holler your little chant at the end."  Is it just me, or are any other locals ready for this football season to be over already?

The less jaded part of me figures that it's better for our campus to be having these discussions now than never.  And it's encouraging that this 'rally' doesn't appear to have mustered even a dozen Klan members, and according to M-Add, was heckled by football fans from both schools and lasted less than 10 minutes. 
So, that part of me will try to keep it posi.

P.S. - From my back porch, I can see a blimp in the sky.

Friday Wrap-Up

Got assy last night for R-Fuen's birthday at T-War's house.  Sluts have GOT to stop having shit on Tuesday or Thursday evenings... why can't more weeknight boozing be happening on Monday or Wednesday evenings, when Sweet Pickles ain't gotta teach until 4:00pm the next day?  You know Sweet Pickles can't say no, so it's kinda unfair to keep making him get drunk the night before a 3-hour class at 9:00am.  Shame on you!  At least my liver wasn't alone in its misery this morning.  By the time I headed into the classroom, I still hadn't seen JustJess (which is rare).  N-Lope rolled in with a pint of Gatorade.  Pointing at my bloodshot eyes, I asked him, "How do you like my eyeballs?"  He replied, "How do you like my voice?  I sound like a funeral director."

On a test in my American Culture class, there was a question that said America's capital city is named after __________, who was the first president of the United States.  Six of the thirteen students (not including the group's single Spanish-speaker) wrote "Jorge Washington."  I suspect that the spelling confusion came from a Mexican student in our program, whose name is Jorge but calls himself by the English version (George) in his classes.  I think many of my students know him as George, but see his name written as Jorge.  Regardless, I got tickled thinking of Georges Bush fils, Wilhelm Clinton, Giorgio Bush il Vecchio, Ronaldo Reagan, etc.

In case you haven't been keeping up with Shit My Dad Says recently, I think I might like Uncle Bob as much as Justin's father. 

Uh, where the hell has Will Cooley Fan Club been lately?  If this hiatus is some coy ploy to leave 'em wantin' more, it's working.  Sweet Pickle is jonesing!

Frenchie sent me the second trailer for Jersey Shore (below), which I hadn't seen.  I'll leave you with this:  "I don't have to do what I don't wanna do.  I'm a bartender.  I do, you know, great things."

The internets just got a little more awesome.

Shrinker is starting her own blog, Just Jess!  I imagine that most of Sweet Pickles' readers would also be down with her program, so you should totally check it out.

The Ice-Chest Manifesto Person strikes again!

With no explanation or context, here's the latest mobile upload to Facebook from the ICMP:

 

Does anyone recognize these cards?  I mean, are they part of some kind of board-game like Scattegories or Pictionary that I've never seen before?  Coming on the heels of the photo of his "The South will rise again" cooler, I'm wondering if I should notify the Southern Poverty Law Center, or whoever tracks hate groups.  Is this as bad as it looks, or is it just that we have a harmless but completely unaware dimwit on our hands?  Is it time for a de-friending?  Vote now!

Grow up.

On Facebook, I noticed that someone I vaguely know but never see (and who is real close to getting de-friended) posted this picture of his ice chest/cooler with the status update "Ready for the Grove!" 

 

As an instructor at Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe, I'm astonished that the only issue that will fire up our student body (and in this case, recent graduates) is this kind of hyperlocal navel-gazing.  As a proud Southerner myself, I'm confounded by this whole TSWRA ("The South will rise again!") chant, and idiots' passionate attachment to it.  Dudes... you're showing your asses, and embarrassing the rest of us.  Not only do you sound ignorant and/or insensitive... you sound impotent.  Whenever I hear this chant, what I want to know is:  "WHEN?!?!?"  If this is what you think you want, then what are you waiting for, bitches?  The return of Elijah?  (FYI, he ain't gonna do it for ya.)  After almost a century and a half of waiting, I guess you've forgotten how well the South's rising worked out the first time around.  Put up or shut up, MFs!  But to answer my own question as to when:  the South will never rise above its current status so long as we're pulled back by this kind of asininity. 

I can't stop myself!

For alternative hybrids to "From Dixie with Love" [see previous post], my own iTunes collection has inspired me with even more ideas for our marching band!

"From Dixie with the Best of My Love" (The Emotions)
"From Dixie with a Bizarre Love Triangle" (New Order)
"From Dixie with a Hunk of Burning Love" (Elvis)
"From Dixie with the Cradle of Love" (Billy Idols)
"From Dixie with a Crazy Little Thing Called Love" (Queen)
"From Dixie with Digital Love" (Daft Punk)
"From Dixie with an Everlasting Love" (Howard Jones)
"From Dixie with Fastlove" (George Michael)
"From Dixie with Jungle Love" (either Steve Miller Band or Morris Day & The Time)
"From Dixie with the Look of Love" (either ABC or Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66)
"From Dixie with Love at First Sight" (Kylie Minogue)
"From Dixie with Love Cats" (The Cure)
"From Dixie with Love as a Battlefield" (Pat Benatar)
"From Dixie with Love My Way" (The Psychedelic Furs)
"From Dixie with Love Plus One" (Haircut 100)
"From Dixie with the Love Train" (The O'Jays)
"From Dixie with Lovefool" (The Cardigans)
"From Dixie with Modern Love" (David Bowie)
"From Dixie with My Love" (Justin Timberlake)
"From Dixie with Real Love" (either Jody Watley or Mary J. Blige)
"From Dixie with Strangelove" (Depeche Mode)
"From Dixie with 100% Pure Love" (Crystal Waters)

... and my personal fave:

"From Dixie with Tainted Love" (Soft Cell)

"Sometimes I feel I've got to run away, I've got to look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land!"

What's your fave?  Vote now!  Or, other suggestions???

A solution that Doc, Gopher, Isaac, Julie, and Capt. Stubing can agree on!

In a recent controversy on campus, our new chancellor has banned the marching band from playing From Dixie With Love (a hybrid arrangement of Dixie and Battle Hymn of the Republic) because of the drunken undergraduates who, at the end of the musical rendition, chant "The South will rise again!"  In a recent status-update on the Facebook, R-Wad posted this:  "R-Wad is writing 'From Dixie with Love Boat,' a beautiful blending of those two songs."  To which, Sweet Pickles offered this contribution:

"In Dixie Land, where I was born,
love won't hurt anymore.
Early on a frosty morn',
it's an open smile on a friendly shore!" 

The Lido Deck will rise again!!

Facebook Tips for the Politically-Incorrect

Ya know how, when friends of yours get tagged in the photos albums of people whom you aren't friends with, you can still see all the photos in that other person's album?  Word to the not-so-wise:  try to think ahead to your first job interview before uploading all of your photos.  Check out this gem I just stumbled across...

Offend much?  Am I overreacting, or wouldn't the Halloween costume on the right (unfortunately, he was tagged only as "Lil Wayne") constitute blackface anywhere else in the country?  With regard to church attendance, it has often been said that 11:00am is the most segregated hour in the American week.  In our town, it appears that downtown on a Friday night would be an equally segregated time of the week.  Otherwise, this colostomy bag (or rather, the contents of one) would have gotten his ass kicked on the streets of one of America's twelve "coolest college towns."  

I realize that, when we're 19 or 20 years old, we don't always make the smartest decisions (I certainly didn't... check out my GPA, or my Valtrex prescription).  Even at my own extremely liberal undergraduate institution, fraternities were frequently in trouble for this kind of stupidity.  I also realize that, typically, our state is about a quarter of a century behind the rest of the country when it comes to national trends.  But come on.  Really???  Who still thinks it's okay to do this on a public sidewalk in 2009?  Obviously, some undergrads where I teach still do.  Luckily, the cheerful young woman rubbing up on the colostomy bag was tagged by name.  And I'll be saving this picture, just waiting, in case she ever runs for public office. 

Ya know what I love?

Myself!  Am I the most awesome instructor ever, or WHAT?!?!  But my real love is international students.  Today (the first Tuesday or Thursday on which it wasn't flooding during the past six weeks), I took one of my classes downtown to execute their 'Free Hugs' experiment.  Every Tuesday and Thursday, they were always disappointed that we'd have to postpone because of the crappy weather, but in the van on the way downtown this afternoon, I could tell they were all nervous.  Riding shotgun, up front next to the driver, I sounded like my mother... "You'll do fine.  Everyone will love you.  You'll have a great time."  And they did.  They totally got into it, and didn't want to leave when it was time to return to campus.  I told them, "Damn!  Y'all sure do love hugging strangers!"  I was so proud of them!  I can't wait to read their reports.  Check out the rest of the pics (including the "awww-inspiring" action shots) on my Facebook page.  We are the world, bitches!  P.S. - Have I used enough exclamation points in this post?

 

 

Calling All Sluts!

Are y'all ready for this?  Sweet Pickles just confirmed his booking at The Lyric for his 30th birthday party.  On Saturday 12-Dec., it's gonna get krunk!  Start planning now.  For Sweet Pickles' out-of-town readers, start making your travel arrangements today.  For you local sluts,what pair of your luckiest underwear will you wear, what taxi service will you use, where can you score some X, who will you call to bail you out of jail? 

Come with!

Tonight at 6:00pm, a group of us will be screening short-films for February's film festival at la maison de Frenchie.  You should totally come.  Bring whatever you'd like to drink, and maybe a little something to nosh.  For those of you pursuing a free-booze pass volunteer pass, the cumulative lengths of the films we view will count toward your 9 hours of service!  Which reminds me...  Note to Frenchie:  Help me remember to circulate a sign-up list, and to keep a running tally of how many hours and minutes of stuff we watch!

My Dilemma

Okay, so... tonight, I'm getting drunk by myself at home (like I do), but now I'm OUT OF BEER!  And since October is the new January, it's too cold for me to go to the convenience store in my pajamas to get more.  So, here are my options, as I see them now (with a buzz):

1.)  Start mixing Maneschewitz with Crystal Light.

2.)  Drunk-text everyone I know locally to come to my house for an 'after party', in order to trick people in to bringing me more beer.

Advice?

Good morning, Berlin!

I think that a big reason why I haven't had much to blog about lately has been the soggy-ass weather.  Seriously.  Driving to work this morning, as I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that the white columns on the front of our building are now green with some kind of fungal growth.  No lie. 

I was further worried by an article I read about the Pacific Ocean losing heat, and the planet entering a 10- to 15-year cooling phase during which temperatures will be lower overall (apparently similar to the 1950s through 1970s).  This does not bode well for my mood.  In general, Sweet Pickles finds that cooling phases are not conducive to sexy times. 

My newest favorite discovery (via D-Sap) is the music of Peter Fox, especially the song Schwarz zu Blau.  I've had it in my head the past couple of days.  I'm finding that its lyrics strike a particularly resonant chord with my mood:  Guten Morgen, Berlin... Du kannst so häßlich sein, so dreckig und grau ("Good morning, Berlin... You can be so dirty, so ugly and gray").  Check out the video.  The animation is pretty great.

"Do you have anything older?"

Last night at Tasting Society (where we sampled German beers à la Oktoberfest), some peeps were talking about the Gideons distributing copies of the New Testament on campus.  Back when I used to have to walk across the Circle daily between my former department's two buildings, I used to see this annual ritual firsthand, but now that I rarely leave my building, I only hear about it.  Which kinda gives me the sads, because I would like the opportunity to tell someone who obviously cares about that kind of stuff, "I'm a Jew."  But A-Ev had an even better retort for me to use:  "Do you have anything older?"  HA!!  That bitch kills me.  She never fails to bring it.  Right on time, every time.  What excited me even more last night was when she said she's going out on Friday night.  WOO HOO!  Smartass in the house!

P.S. - Gideons distributing New Testaments on campus doesn't really bother me.  I'd just like to see some variety.  Why doesn't anyone ever offer copies of the Book of Mormon or the Qur'an or the Mahayana sutras?  If I can get my hands on some tiny green Talmuds, watch out!

"Look out, weekend... here I come!"

It looks like this weekend is shaping up to be pretty awesome.  JustJess and I are planning some more daytime drinking in her carport tomorrow afternoon.  And M-Dev told his today that he's going out tomorrow night, which indeed makes for a special occasion.  And according to Facebook, it looks like Brookles' coolest out-of-state friend is coming in to town for the weekend.  So, after JustJess and I get things started right, maybe everyone can meet up at Snackbar for fun times? 

Saturday, I've got a ticket to see David Sedaris (who I still cannot believe is coming to town) on Saturday night.  Then, it's off to a birthday party for my favorite Brazilian!  How much more fun could possibly be packed in to 48 hours?!?!

Enough Already (Again)

I had a very nice weekend, until Sunday.  A relaxing Friday evening... stayed in, ate my favorite nachos for dinner, and read.  Saturday was a spontaneous daytrip in to the Bluff City with M-Shan and D-Hug.  We listened to D-Hug's This Ain't No Disco mix that she burned for me (get yours at WCFC while supplies last!), had Ethiopian food for lunch, joked about buying 'quinn-noah' at the hippie grocery store and about buying thongs at Old Navy.  Met friends at Snackbar that night for drinks.  Then sometime Sunday morning, rolled over in bed to hear rain outside.  Again.  All day.  All night.  And still today.  My whole Monday was off... my mood was just shot.  It's too early in the fall for it to be this chilly, this wet, and this dark for this long.  The whole month of September has looked and felt like January.  And to add insult to injury, it's supposed to be like this until NEXT Sunday!  That will make it a full month with less than a week of sunshine.  I just can't.  I'm starting to think I should be pursuing a faculty-exchange in Dubai.

On a totally unrelated note:  When I logged in to Typepad a few minutes ago, this was their Question of the Day:

Reagan had bowls full of jelly beans; Obama, M&M's. If you were elected President, what would you choose as the official White House candy?

I can't decide whether mine would be Jordan Almonds or Maple Nut Goodies.  What would yours be?

A Bowl Full of Ass

is how Sweet Pickles feels right now.  A potluck dinner with my former department at L-Hane's and K-Wad's place (in which I only ate beer for dinner), then patio wine-drinking at T-War's, and now I'm headed in to a 3-hour string of back-to-back classes.  I think that, for this semester, I've just proved to myself that Thursdays cannot be that thirsty.  I'm gonna have to do my midweek drinking on Wednesdays, since I don't have to teach until 4:00pm on Thursdays. 

P.S. - The weather isn't helping.  Anybody else had enough of this shite yet?  I was over it two weeks ago.

I've lost count.

But I want it to stop.  I'm tired of the sight of it, the sound of it, the smell of it, the taste of it, and the feel of it.

In case you hadn't noticed...

it's still raining.  Five days ago, I was pissed off enough already to post about how much it had been raining.  And it hasn't stopped since then.  Guess what kind of mood I'm in now.

It's gonna be a LONNNG football season.

Here in Lilongwe, we ain't got real good cell phone reception as it is.  But during the past nine months of bliss, I had forgotten what happens when all eighty-five fans of Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe's football team show up in the village at one time and want to use their Jitterbugs to call their whorey granddaughters to meet them for fried chicken at Pawpaw's tent:  nobody who lives up in this biotch can make a cell phone call or send a text message.  If you ever get serious about committing suicide, come here on a home game weekend to do it... you'll never get an ambulance because 911 will never even know.  But hey, it's worth it... how often does your team get to play against the South Carolina State School for the Blind?

I need a Sun Dome already!

Life here in the Magnolia State frequently reminds this Texan of The Long Rain (a favorite short story by Ray Bradbury), and not in a good way.  As I've said time and time again, it's like living in Seattle or London, but without all the fun, excitement, and interesting things to do.

Really?

Of America's twelve coolest college towns, most of this story's criteria would seem to disqualify us...  bicycles seem to outnumber cars, affordable restaurants serve up authentic cuisines from all around the world, nature is usually accentuated, performing arts abound, etc. 

Of course, part of me feels flattered that Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe's town is the only SEC member to be included, but can our modest hamlet really be said to offer experiences comparable to those in places like Chapel Hill or Madison?  Maybe my insider's perspective is preventing me from seeing the forest for the trees.  As an undergrad, there was a lot about The Capital of Texas that drove me crazy sometimes (the traffic, the militant political correctness, the cult of the intentionally unattractive, etc.), and made my grad school's town seem like a welcome breath-of-fresh-air, but comparing our remote village to Austin seems a bit audacious. 

It's not that I'm worried about misleading outsiders with overly rosey impressions (and hey, we can always use the positive press to attract more cool people here).  I think it's the crotchety old grandpaw in me that doesn't want to give undeserved bragging rights to those of our students who will never have reason to visit places like Ann Arbor, Charlottesville, and Boulder.  Not that Sweet Pickles has been to all of these towns.  But I do have lots of friends who have lived in each (and many other cool college towns not on this list) who are fervently-devoted former residents in love with those places.  But, they've all adjusted well, and seem relatively happy here.  So maybe I'm just a grass-is-always-greener kind of guy. 

I don't know where to start.

Sometimes, I think that, for those of us who teach at Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe, our lives jobs would be easier if we worked at a Wahhabist madrasah.  Then, we'd know what we were dealing with... no surprises.  But here at Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe, much of the student body passes easily for educated and mature members of Western civilization in the 21st century. 

Yesterday's op-ed piece in our campus newspaper (which I only now stumbled upon), contributed by an irate student, doesn't just appall me.  It actually strikes fear in the heart.  I am a friend of the professor being attacked, and when I think of all the art history that I have ever taught here (nudes, absinthe addicts, gory execution scenes, depictions of catamites, fertility idols, artistic media using bodily fluids, you name it), I realize that this could very well be one of my own classes being publicly vilified by someone who has absolutely no understanding of what it is I'm trying to do.  But what will really keep me up at night is not the brazen willingness to publicly declare oneself a philistine on the campus of an American public university, but the number of respondents for whom this student's call for censorship and moral condemnation is heroic and worthy of emulation. 

My first instinct (as usual) was to fire off a pointed response.  However, I worry that I might be developing a local reputation for that sort of thing.  Additionally, I worry that, whatever rational defense I might offer would only harden her convictions and incense her fellow jihadists.  Furthermore, M-Shan's and Frenchie's responses (among others) appear to have already handled the situation nicely (they've got this one).  So, I thought I'd vent my spleen here instead.  Below, I've posted the redacted text of the student's letter, and inserted my own responses in italics.  Here we go...

I began this semester as a student enrolled in a junior-level modern foreign language course, heading for a certain minor to support my English major.

After the first class period, however, I withdrew from the course, and am now questioning the minor, though I had planned on it for some years.

Although the professor’s vibrant personality and obvious love for teaching recommended him to me as a good teacher, his course syllabus gave me reason to re-evaluate not only him as a teacher, but the Department of [x] and [Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe] as sources for my education.

Re-evaluating opinions about people based upon their approaches to teaching and learning is a two-way street, sister. 

My first question is whether the teachers must have their syllabi examined by the department before using them in class?

Yes, we must.  But not for the reasons you're thinking.

If so, then perhaps the information causing me such grave concern will not be new, but it is even more shocking for having been approved.

As a disclaimer to any film material used in the class, the syllabus includes a section describing the type of “mature” content the teacher plans to utilize.

His purpose, I specifically remember, is to teach not only the language, but the culture from which it comes. The content includes sexual acts, violence, profanity, illegal drug use, nudity and a few other forms of immorality. He cautioned the class to understand that though such issues are not suitable for children, we, as adults, should not be offended, as we surely experience the same things in daily life. If anyone is offended, he strongly suggests he or she drop the class immediately.

The professor's first and only mistake would appear to be any assumption on his part that students such as yourself would be as mature as the content of the films mentioned in the syllabus.  To be honest, I have never thought to forewarn enrollees that they might be offended by some material in my classes.  Being offended is a part of life, and most certainly to be expected in any learning process.  Count yourself lucky if you manage to finish a bachelor's degree without being offended by something.  Personally, I am offended that you're offended.  But what I don't understand is what part of the content description has you up-in-arms?  All it says is "includes sexual acts, violence, profanity, illegal drug use, and nudity."  Which of those, by definition, is inherently 'immoral'?  What if the sex acts are between husband and wife for procreation?  What if the violence is in self defense or an act of war?  What if the pot is being smoked by people from Amsterdam who don't know the American laws governing drug use, or if a terminally ill patient is abusing prescription medication?  What if the nudity is nothing more than a character changing clothes?

I am not “offended,” but disgusted! As a married woman, I am certainly well acquainted with mature subjects, but that does not mean I condone them.

Wait, what?  I have no idea what 'mature subjects' are going on between you and your husband with which you are well acquainted but don't condone.  This sounds like a personal problem.  Perhaps a private session with a marriage counselor might be a more appropriate forum than the newspaper.

Neither do I want to base my education in their exploitation. Had I wanted to watch dirty movies to learn Spanish, I would not have worked so hard to get to [Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe].

'Exploitation?'  What led you to believe the professor would be collecting a cover charge to watch "Girls Gone Wild" in the classroom?  'Dirty?'  How old are you?  I'm guessing either 7 or 77.  Either way, 'dirty' is a personal value judgment that tells me absolutely nothing about the objectionable content of any of these films (but tells me a lot about you).  Or is there mud on the DVDs?  Speaking of descriptive choices, aren't you supposed to be an English major?  But forget all that... what I really want to know is, did you really "work hard to get to" this school?  Really??  But, be glad that you ended up where you did, because if this content warning has got you so worked up about something you've never even laid eyes on, then what is happening in the classrooms of our nation's best universities would BLOW. YOUR. MIND.

After all, most DVDs today offer Spanish subtitles or voice-overs.

Are you implying that you were doing the Spanish language a favor by studying it?  Spanish doesn't need you, thanks.  You need Spanish.  And a lot of other courses.

While such immorality is indeed a part of many people’s daily lives, it is not right, and my desire is to always encourage my peers to rise above their circumstances and strive for a better way of life.

Look, Church Lady... I don't know what conclave of cardinals elected you pope, but nobody gives a flying sexual act about your opinion of what is 'immoral' or 'right' in other people's lives.  What about that biblical injunction against judging others?  Frankly, I find your whole attitude immoral.  So stick that in your incense-burner and smoke it.  If your desire is to encourage your peers to rise and strive (according to your own individual standards), then A.) you probably should have worked harder to get into a seminary instead of a public university, and B.) do the rest of us a favor and get a new hobby.  

I do not intend to watch filth for entertainment, nor for the purpose of learning a language.

That's what the content warning in the syllabus was all about, Stephen Hawking!  But I guess it's not enough to exercise your own conscience and free will, you've got to exercise yours on behalf of the rest of us?  No thanks, Mom.  And I love that the U.S. Supreme Court has yet to be able to define what constitutes obscenity, but an undergrad at this school has got it all figured out.  If not a seminary, how about law school?

Understanding culture, of course, is the automatic excuse for allowing such trash to be shown to a classroom, but that is all it is - an excuse!

I know you may find this hard to believe, but you are not at a stage in you own education to be able to pass critical judgment on much of anything.  Being a tuition-paying customer does not make you an expert.  All you've got are personal opinions.  Which are like a certain body part that I hope you never have to see in a movie.

I have lived in South America and have traveled through Mexico, and my family, overall, is very well traveled.

Having visitors from Africa, Asia, Europe, Canada, South America and the Middle East was a common occurrence in the house where I grew up, and I tell you now that it is an insult to those honorable people and their countries to assume that understanding their culture requires an examination of pure trash!

First of all, why do I suspect that, by "South America" you really mean the American South? Or that Africa, Asia, Europe, Canada, and the Middle East are probably stand-ins for Harlem, Chinatown, Little Italy, New England, and Detroit?  Either way, a passport doesn't make you an authority on understanding other cultures.  Taking off your own burkha would be a good first step, if you really want to learn about the rest of the world.  Regardless, I seriously doubt that Spaniards would be insulted to learn that you watched an Almodovar film in class.  Actually, I imagine they would take greater offense at the idea of some puritanical American college student trying to 'clean up' something their own culture produced.  Trust me, I've had one or two real, live ones inside my own house (which obviously makes me an expert on how España feels).

Immorality is not specific to any one culture, but common to all peoples.

Goooood.  But now take the next leap:  No two cultures define immorality in exactly the same ways. 

This very university is known well for its drunken revelries, but that can be clearly understood without exploiting the shame of others on a screen for our entertainment or so called “education.”

If, as you assume, drunken revelries are immoral, then you don't see any educational value in studying the phenomenon and increasing awareness about it?  How could Nancy Reagan warn the country's youth about the dangers of drugs if she couldn't even mention the words "drugs," much less show in some meaningful way the negative aspects?

I know full well that illegal drugs run rampant in many Central and South American cultures, but I can know that and understand that aspect of culture without a video slamming it before my face and demanding the full concentration of my mind.

If you never watched a video about the topic, or concentrated fully on it, then how on earth do you even know about illegal drugs running rampant in Central and South American cultures?  These are the logic and debating skills that the university you worked so hard to get in to are turning out?

I also am well aware that young girls were purchased by the multitude from Asian countries to serve in brothels, but should I watch a girl be stolen and raped before my eyes to gain that knowledge? Certainly not!

Now you're going to compare this professor's syllabus to showing rape videos?!?!  Quit inventing unrealistic example to make your case, you sick pervert!

Because class participation and attendance is worth 25 percent of the overall grade, I knew that to simply take absences on the film days would pull my grades far below their current standing, and I was not willing to accept that.

Look, Saint Luke... if your righteous convictions mean anything, you've got to make sacrifices.  So march your transcripts right up onto the gallows and slip them inside the hangman's noose.  What the hell kind of martyr are you?  Put your money where your mouth is, and maybe then I'd be willing to listen to your preaching.

In short, I am not a prude, but I am not willing to sacrifice so dear an aspect of pure mind and clear heart for the mere reward of education. I have worked hard to get where I am, and I will continue to move toward my aspirations, but I hope I will never do so at the high price of a mind and heart corrupted.

The way you have railed against filth and trash and immorality thus far could be considered a textbook example of prudishness.  But you're actually much worse than the average prude... you're a prude on a mission to pressure everyone else into prudishness.  And quit singing your own praises already (pride?)!  You have neither a pure mind nor a clear heart... it would appear that you have a closed mind and a hardened heart.  If the reward of education is so trivial, then I can't fathom what your aspirations might be, why you're here, or why you published this in the first place.

For the sake of those students too ashamed or too shy to stand for what is right, I wrote to the department, asking them to reconsider this aspect of the class’ “education” and question whether it is really necessary to incorporate such filth into any course, much less one offered to students who are struggling to make good life decisions.

You're real sweet to do that for all the other students, Messiah.  But quit assuming that you know what is right.  Instead, try "to stand for what I believe is right."  And do you not have any clue how utterly deranged you sound using words like "filth" do describe what basically sounds like a PG-13 movie?  Finally, all of our classes are offered to all students, including those not struggling to make good life decisions, and those who want to see the material.  And don't worry so much about the poor students struggling to make good life decisions, Tony Robbins.  They're big boys and girls, and it's none of your business.  Besides, how can they triumph over evil if they're never given the opportunity to reject temptation?

Their response: “Thank you for writing… Your remarks have been duly noted.” The rest of the e-mail consisted of polite niceties.

Isn’t that great?! My extremely concerned remarks have been “duly noted.” 

What did you expect?  Wait, let me guess... an indecency trial leading to a public stoning?  A school-sponsored burning of R-rated DVDs that you've never even seen?  I figure you're lucky that's all the response you got.  If I'd been the one answering the department's email when this came across the wires, I doubt your cloistered sensibilities could have handled the response.  Somebody would have gotten told.

A Day in the Life of One of the Nation's Top Party Schools

This afternoon, I took my highest-level students on a pre-arranged visit to sit in on a friend's real live class here at Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe.  After our observation, we returned to our own classroom, where I debriefed them about their impressions.  Here's a sample of what they noticed...

The teacher was so cool!  (Uh, excuse you... you already have the coolest instructor on this campus.  Recognize.)

I can understand everything the teacher says, but I cannot understand anything when the students speak.  (You, me, and the course's instructor.  Unfortunately, the official enrollees probably need Intensive English classes more than any of my group does.)

The topic was so interesting!  I want to know more about it!  Maybe I will have this class in the future!  (Agreed.  It wasn't art history, but it was pretty interesting.  And where is this kind of enthusiasm among our native-born students?)

Only we are taking notes.  All the students, they never write anything when the teacher is speaking.  (They only kind of class-related writing most of them do is emails of complaint after failing tests.)

When the teacher asks questions, [one of us] gives more answers than the official students.  (Even though we had missed all of the previous lectures, and did not do the pre-assigned readings, we were as prepared to participate and contribute to the class discussion as 99% of those actually taking the class for credit.)

All the students use their cell phones to do text messaging and look at internet.  (I stand corrected:  In addition to emails of complaint after failing tests, the other kind of class-related writing they do is Facebook status updates during lectures.) 

I left feeling appreciative that this kind of shite is no longer what I have to put up with 9 hours per week every semester.  Adjuncting a course here and there in my former department is perfect... enough to keep me mentally engaged with Art-with-a-capital-'A', but not so much as to require blood pressure medicine.  To my pedagogical partners-in-crime here at Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe, I hope that, one day, you may have one of the students in my group in one of your classes.  If and when that day comes, don't sweat the language 'barrier'... it's much easier to deal with than the attitude barrier that you confront every day!

On a side note...

Walking across campus, on our way to the lecture hall where my friend's class meets, I told one of my students that I heard he might be leaving soon, and asked if he was going back to his home country.  Turns out, he's transferring to Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe's intrastate rival (he has a friend there).  Disapprovingly, I asked if he had ever visited the town where that university is located.  And without missing a beat, he deadpans, "Yeah.  It was a tough decision.  I'll miss the warm beer and all the bars closing at midnight here."  HA!!  (I am always impressed by people who are able to be funny in a foreign language.)  But his response also made me a little sad.  Not only do I regret that we'll be losing a smartass like him, but what is really depressing is how this town must appear through the eyes of some international students (or other Americans, for that matter).  Sure, if you're visiting from a totalitarian dictatorship, I can see how our town would seem appealing.  But if you're coming in from a NATO ally, it fails to attract.  And I can't argue with that.  If I wanted religiously-inspired legal restrictions on my access to alcohol in a remote small town, I'd apply to the University of Qom.  What I don't get is how we are consistently able to qualify as a 'party school'.

If the stars at night are big and bright, deep in the heart of Texas...

the moon is what blows my mind in the Magnolia State!  I'm assuming it's the same celestial body that can be viewed from Texas or Japan.  But it never makes me stop and look at it the way it does here.  When clouds aren't blocking it, that is.

I'm all over it, all up in it, and dancin' circles around it!

Calling all Music Sluts! 

A-Bed (great nickname, huh?) is organizing a charity benefit for the local animal shelter, and it's gonna be an 80s Dance Party!!  Hellz-to-the-mutha-effin'-YEAH!  Don't even. 

Thursday 17-Sep [put it on your calendars now, sluts] at the PowerHouse.

Tickets (available at the door) are $10.00 and include your first drink for free (plus pizza and/or some snacks for those of you who eat).

80s Music Triva competition starts at 8:00pm

Serious business (i.e., the shaking of moneymakers) begins at 9:00pm.

In discussions of playlists, A-Bed already made reference to Debbie Deb.  And asked me for any trivia question ideas and/or playlist recommendations.  I sent her the 80s-specific archive of Music Slut questions, with these instructions:  "Each of these questions is based on a song that I own.  Therefore, by definition, asses can be shaken to all of them.  Consider this the playlist recommendations of an expert."  Although I will obviously disqualify myself from the trivia competition, the rest of you Music Sluts can play without guilt, because 90% of the questions have not yet been featured on SweetPickles.typepad.com!  Who knows, maybe y'all can win some fabulous prizes and shit?!?!

So... D-Hug, JustJess, M-Shan, Frenchie, L-Shep, and Ruby:  consider yourselves my dates for this worthy cause!  Who am I kidding, I don't need a worthy cause... if they were promoting mandatory root canals as an 80s Dance Party, I'd still do it (I'm slutty like that).  For Brad Bagby, Maribeth, and Yankee Librarian (our out-of-town Music Sluts), we'll tip our 40s in your honor.

Spread the word, Music Sluts!

A New Fave with Some Old Faves

Sweet Pickles spent a wonderful afternoon with his mother and an old friend of hers (one of 'the Lindas', although not actually named Linda).  Mama Pickles and her friend flew in to Tupelo for the week, because the Linda and her husband are buying a large tour bus there (the kind Bon Jovi lives in when they're on the road), and they will be driving the new tour bus back to the Lone Star State on Friday.  Another Linda was supposed to come with them, but couldn't at the last minute, which makes me sad because it could have been like that Britney Spears roadtrip movie, except with sassy Texan retirees.  [Warning:  On Friday, stay off of I-55 between Memphis and Jackson, I-20 between Jackson and Dallas, and I-35 between Dallas and Waco.]

We had a delightful time driving around O-Town, giving the Linda the official tour of campus and town.  Apparently, since we didn't get out of the car, we missed today's circus downtown when the local school district let all of the middle school students out early to terrorize the city.  The weather was perfect, and we walked around the grounds at Rowan Oak for a little while.  We had a drink and an early dinner of various shared appetizers at the Snackbar: the fried green tomatoes, the truffles frites, the lamb sliders, and the pickle plate.  Do not get us started about the pickle plate... we are obsessed!  According to our awesome waitress (a former student of mine, who Mama Pickles and the Linda were loving hard), each of the five items rotate each day, so you get a different mix each time.  And each item is pickled differently, so they don't all taste exactly the same.  Our pickle plate today included hardboiled egg, shrimp, green beans, mango, and okra.  At $6.00, I plan to get a pickle plate every time I go there.  And you should too!

It was really great to see them.  Although Mama Pickles and I talk on the phone at least once a week, it's just not the same as being able to squeeze each others' goozles.  And I hadn't seen this particular Linda in almost a year.  I wish they could have stayed a little longer, but the girls wanted to drive back to Tupelo before it gets dark. 

When they were getting ready to depart, Mama Pickle didn't get all verklempt about leaving me (like she do).  I left them in their rental car (a bigass Lincoln, natch), and went back in the house.  Fifteen minutes later, I had to go outside to get something out of my truck.  They were still out there, trying to figure out the GPS/navigating system (refer to warning above).

Welcome, Class of 2013!

Sweet Pickles is a little bit relieved that he'll only be teaching international students this semester.  To all of my academical compatriots who will have them in your classes, go get 'em!

It's that time of year again.

I went up to the office after lunch today, and managed to do my semi-annual pre-semester desk cleaning and stock a separate tote bag for each of my 5 classes, all in record time.  Sweet Pickles can organize like nobody's business!  However, I'm not fooling myself that the results will survive more than a day or two.  But it feels good to face the new semester with a clean (literally) slate.

Despite my previous pessimism about my classes this semester, I'm starting to get excited.  I worried that teaching so many beginning-level classes would mean that I'd have large enrollments of homogeneous (probably Korean girls) students.  But so far, my group is only 13 students, and we've got a great mix:  7 girls and 6 boys, from Ecuador (1), Japan (6), Jordan (1), South Korea (2) Taiwan (2), and Turkey (1).  I already met each of them individually on Thursday or Friday during their placement testing.  [Note:  During the speaking interviews, I got my first response to ever include a reference to MacGyver.]  And after receiving their schedules and textbooks, they didn't appear disappointed about their level, but rather excited to have gotten me as a teacher.  Since I'll be teaching their oral/aural sequence (rather than their literacy sequence), they won't come to dread my classes as quickly as they normally do, since there is usually less homework for those classes.  But still, Sweet Pickles will probably find a way to assign more homework than even their literacy teachers.  You know how he do.

On the way to campus this afternoon, I stopped to pick up a Caesar salad for lunch to eat at my desk while organizing.  The traffic confirmed for me that it really is that time of year again.  Not just the number of cars on the roads, but the number of out-of-state license plates that don't yet know where they're going.  And now as I sit on my back porch typing this, the amount of fallen leaves all over the patio furniture are telling me, "Yeah, the traffic wasn't lying.  It's that time of year again."  And I can't remember who it was that had led me to believe that we would have fewer home games this football season, but I saw the schedule and we've got more home games than away games.  And, most of those come in chunks of 3 weekends in a row!  In a normal year, this news would make my ass bleed, but considering that our team is ranked #6 in the nation going into the season, I anticipate having to invest in some Depends to make it through December. 

Just so ya know...

While Sweet Pickles was busy not laying out at Perdido, L-Ant became a grandmother.  Congratulations, granny!  Mother and baby boy are doing very well.  So next time you see the ol' gal out at the early bird buffet, help her with her walker while she digs in her purse for a Werther's Original!  Or better yet, call her up on her Jitterbug to share your well wishes!

Perdido '09

Tropical Storm Claudette (that whore) meant that we had no laying-out weather this year, but there was plenty of good food (thanks to K-Wad's grillz skillz and to a delightfully Hebrew-friendly Publix!), yacht rock, trashy magazines, rolling-on-the-floor laughter, and morning boozing in pajamas. 

Since A-Ev, M-Kin, and Connie Selleca got down there first, A-Ev was able to prepare this welcome for us...

Sadly, one of the Seven Sluts was AWOL, but we saved her place...

Sweet Pickles did not try to feed old bread to sea gulls off the balcony this year...

Connie Selleca loves yacht rock...

The kilo...

Although K-Wad still reigns as the ultimate champion of Scrabble, M-Shan scored quintuple coolness points with this one...

If you skip out on Perdido, your name is likely to be slandered during your absence...

Depressingly, I still have 5 syllabi to prep before tomorrow's faculty meeting, and I'd rather eat a spider.  Even after several days of lounging, I still don't know that I'm ready to face a new academic year yet. 

Victory!

Background:  About 2 weeks ago, I emailed our Big Boss to inquire about the possibility of doing a faculty exchange abroad next spring or next summer.  Unfortch, Big Boss was out on vacation last week, and I've been dying to hear back.  Fast-forward to 3:59pm this afternoon:  On my back porch with my laptop, I decide to email a document to myself so that I can print it out at the office for my class tomorrow.  Upon logging into my webmail account via Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe's homepage, the first email in my inbox appears to be the much awaited reply from Big Boss to my original query.  Immediately below that email, I happen to secondarily notice an email reminder from Ye Olde Academic Sweat Shoppe's IT people about this afternoon's complete and utter shutdown of the entire system.  Which is scheduled for 4:00pm today.  In my mind, I could see and hear one of those detonation timers ticking down, like in action movies.

I never got to read the reminder about why the Sweat Shoppe's computing was going to DEFCON 3, but I suspect one of the following:

1.)  A shift change on the treadwheel, between Winky and Toodles (the two gerbils who take turns generating electricity for campus).
2.)  The kite string, yarn, and twine used to connect the Sweat Shoppe's computing systems got rained on.  Or gnawed on by a squirrel.
3.)  Arlita, a bumbling but well-meaning receptionist (bless her heart) in the webmaster's office, mistook the Sweat Shoppe's mainframe for a vending machine, tried to feed some quarters into the slot where the punchcards are supposed to be inserted, then tried to retrieve the coins with a pair of tweezers.
4.)  The Sweat Shoppe's computing upgrade, from Simon the Memory Game to Coleco Handheld Football (Speak & Spell was too expensive), requires some installation time. 

I wish I could have seen myself as I focused like a mutha-uckin' LASER to try and open the email from Big Boss and copy-and-paste its contents into something I could save before the lights went out in Georgia. The theme song from Mission Impossible was ringing in my ears.  Sweet Pickles gots SKILLZ, y'all!  I was actually able to get the email I'd been waiting for!  Can you believe it?  I know it might seem like no big deal to those of you for whom things always work out.  But accomplishing this feat, despite the odds stacked against me, made my frickin' day!  Anyhoo... Big Boss wrote back, asking if I'd be interested in Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University (in Port Elizabeth, South Africa), and how about Latin America? 

I hadn't really thought about NMMU when researching possibilities, but I spent the rest of the afternoon looking into it.  Apparently, Port Elizabeth is the 5th largest metro area in the country (after Johannesburg, Cape Town, Durban, and Pretoria).  And this description of the weather really piqued my interest:  "Temperatures are moderate all year round with rain scattered throughout the year.  The summers are warm with a very temperate humidity level.  Winters are mild and pleasant, and it is significant that water sports, even surfing, boardsailing and diving, are practised year-round [italics mine]."  Not that I'd plan on doing much surfing (although I wouldn't rule out trying it), but the idea that it can be done even in winter certainly appeals.  I mean, Stellenbosch is in wine country, but NMMU is sounding a little "Sunshine Coast-ish" (in a good way). 

As for Big Boss' second question, I hadn't realized that Latin America might even be a possibility for me to do something like this.  So now, I'm torn.  Unfortch, I can't look up Latin American institutions we have exchange agreements with (see aforementioned computing issue), and it's killing me.  Depending on what countries we're talking about, this might be an even cooler (or hotter) option what any of the places I'd been considering previously.  Or not.  Right now, my initial instinct is telling me...

Guatemala, San Salvador, Belize, Honduras, Guyana, Suriname, French Guinana:  no.  (I cannot envision how I would potentially live here for up to 3 months, or I cannot generate enough interest to want to try.)

Dominican Republic, Haiti, Colombia, Venezuela, Bolivia, Paraguay:  probably not.  (I don't rule these out, but they don't interest me as much as others.)

Panama, Peru, Chile, Uruguay:  maybe.  (I might want to research further to better predict how happy I'd be there.)

Mexico, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Argentina:  yes.  (I am confident enough that I would enjoy these to be able to accept an offer immediately, with excitement and not much further thought.)

Brazil:  STFU.  (If this is even remotely possible, Sweet Pickles only has two things to say: Não toque em me e então ande afastado ["Don't touch me and then walk away"], and, Para fazer este acontecer, com quem devo eu dormir? ["To make this happen, who do I gotta sleep with?"].)

So... Port Elizabeth or Latin America?  Opinions?  Advice?  Recommendations?

In the meantime, fingers crossed for Sweet Pickles' semester abroad!

Summer 2009

Is it just me and stinkin’ thinkin’, or has Summer 2009 been kind of a bust?  Don’t get me wrong… I’ll still take it over the other seasons, any day.  But now that we’re winding down to the final week, the whole thing seems somehow less memorable than summers past.  When I look back at my Facebook photo albums from this summer and last, my gut instinct feels confirmed. 

Let’s start with the bad.  Too many cool people were out of town for too long.  This happens, but during this summer, it really felt like the expiration pangs of HYFA in the throes of dying.  Summer 2009 must have been officially declared the summer of no dancing.  This oversized booty got shaken  exactly once since the Spring semester ended.  This was probably appropriate considering that pop music never managed to produce a break-out hit of the summer (WTF has Justin Timberlake been doing?)… I haven’t spent so much as ten dollars on iTunes over the past three months.  The three-week bout of weird weather (in which I had to carry a jacket to work every day) and the cancellation of our Japan tour only further soured my impression of Summer 2009.  Overall, there wasn’t nearly enough spontaneous after-work drinking downtown on random weeknights.  What little of it occurred was of such poor quality that I’ve felt compelled to institute boycotts against multiple local establishments.  And finally, the deaths of so many pop culture icons of my youth made me feel sad and old.

Now, in attempt to keep it posi, here are the far-too-few highlights of Summer 2009 for which Sweet Pickles is grateful.  Several really great house-parties (especially those featuring Don Beer), and even more QT on the back porches of good friends.  My job, and all of the amazing students that summer teaching brought into my life (including, but not limited to, the Ecuadorians, my Mexican high school group, the World Learning students from exotic new locales, and a few of my old faves).  And probably the overarching theme to make Summer 2009 at all salvageable, the K-Fiel flava.  What did we ever do with ourselves before that slut rolled into town again?

So, as we approach the ending of another summer, I choose to remind myself that there will always be another one, just nine months away.  And that Perdido still awaits.  Here’s to a fun and exciting Fall 2009 for everybody!

Thanks, Shrinker!

Over the past week and a half (since the end of the second summer session), Sweet Pickles had been missing his daily fix of JustJess in the office.  And hadn't realized how much his high blood pressure has been moderated by his daily dose of her positivity!  So, leaving the office after lunch today, I dialed a sister up, to see if I could swing by and hang.  Of course her response was "bring it!"  Ended up spending around 4 hours over at her place.  Catching up, bitching, laughing, gossipping, and drinking High Lifes under her carport in the middle of a weekday afternoon for no reason.  So, if you ever find yourself in a bad mood, Dr. Pickles recommends a session with JustJess to get over your case of the sads.  A little QT with that shrinker can cure what ills ya!

No nap for SP!

Just came home to a warm house.  I could hear the A/C running, but the temperature reading was at 79F (although the thermostat was set for 70F).  Please, please, please, whatever it is, do not let this cost more than a hundred bucks!  And please, please, please, let it be fixable before I have to go to sleep.  The heating-and-cooling guy thinks he can get someone out here before the end of the day (fingers crossed), but I know the Magnolia State. 

I really need a nap since tonight is our last hurrah for summertime Tuesday Night Trivia at 10:30pm, after grilling out at K-Fiel's with her out-of-town visitors.  But even if I didn't need to stay fully clothed in case the repairman shows up, I don't think I could actually fall asleep when it's this warm inside.  Why couldn't this BS have happened at any time over the past two weeks, when the daily high temperature never broke 75F? 

These are the good times.

Last night D-Hug and P-Rut hosted a barbecue at their awesome place.  In addition to all the cool kids in attendance, there were brisket and ribs, Don beer (love. it.), and all kinds of season-appropriate vegetable salads and desserts.  What wasn't season-appropriate was the Santa Barbara-esque weather... once night fell, people needed jackets and sweaters! 

K-Wad and I came up with a new marketing campaign to spread the gospel about his pork ribs.  The ads will feature M-Shan and Sweet Pickles with barbecue smeared all across our faces, with a tagline that reads "Vegan-tested and Jew-approved... it's that good!"  Now, as to whether M-Shan and I will actually partake in the biblically-prohibited/ politically-incorrect deliciousity is unsure.  I can't speak for M-Shan, but I have no problem lending my image to endorse a product I don't actually use myself, so long it brings in the benjamins.  If K-Wad pays me with that orange-colored sauce he makes for chicken, I'll even wear fake payot curls to the photo shoot. 

It was a magical night filled with stimulating conversations and fun stories, the kind of evening that reminds me why (despite the multiple irritations) I still love living here.  So, big kudos to the proprietress of Will Cooley Fan Club and her husband (who reminds me so much of my oldest friend, Wipey!).

Shortly, I'm off to an evening of slutty vampires with the HBO-watching crew at Frenchie's.  We've got last week's episode to catch up on before tonight's new one. 

Musings from Bed

Didn't get home from T-War's after-party con los Ecuadorianos until 4:45am, so another shout-out to our willing hostess!  The impending conclusion of this summer session and fast-approaching departure of the Ecuadorians (and my Mexican students) has already got me missing Summer 2009. 

Pretty soon, I should drag my corpse out of bed.  I need to go pick up some party supplies before heading over to D-Hug's and P-Rut's barbecue.  Good times!  And another example of why the other seasons that aren't summer are three player-hatin' biotches.  I wish that summers never ended. 

For reasons I don't understand myself, I just went on an online music-buying binge in which I only downloaded songs from Steely Dan or England Dan & John Ford Coley.  I've never owned a single song by either artist (and part of me still recoils at the thought of the money spent on nothing to which my ass can be shaken).  I came across one of their songs when it was suggested to me by iTunes.  It was the kind of stuff that was playing on the radio in my daddy's truck or my mama's Gran Torino during the Ford Administration.  I think I'm on some kind of nostalgia jag. 

Something else that I am missing about childhood and my home are the lakes in my home county.  I never thought anything special about them, and just took it for granted that every county had its own lakes, and assumed that ours were probably the lamest.  Now that I've had opportunities to compare, I can now r-r-recognize and appreciate them.  I'm not saying that either is Lake Tahoe, but I miss them and am sad that I won't be able to make it back home while it's still summer. 

Only that fool.

G-Wrizzle is back in town after more than a month in 'British Honduras' doing his archaeological thang.  Saw him out tonight at birthday drinks for JustJess, where he regaled the crowd with the annual tales of jungle parasites... but with a twist.  According to G-Wrizzle's scratching-gestures, he had been experiencing a recurring itchy sensation between his legs (I hear ya, brother).  It seems that this year's bot fly had embedded itself in the 'taint region'.  Since, apparently, bot fly removal is notoriously tricky, inquiring minds wondered how G-Wrizzle approached the problem.  "I did a little shave down there, and slapped a piece of duct tape over it!"  Sweet Pickles is really going to miss that fool when he leaves.  And if any doubts remained in my mind as to why I chose art history over archaeology as a major, this reconfirms my decision.  There ain't no bot flies inside museums!

Go on with your anthropological self, B-Hale!

It looks like Time Team America is finally coming to a PBS station near you!  You should totally check it out, because it features my friend, JustJess' old man, and archaeological celebrity B-Hale!  Locally, I think we can see it (the Roanoke episode, I believe) on Wednesday at 7:00pm.  The Time Team America website (linked above) has a search function under the "TV Schedules" tab, so Sweet Pickles' non-local readers can find out when to catch it.  I'm hoping that in addition to sifting through the dirt, B-Hale will also dish the dirt (i.e., share any behind-the-scenes gossip on who was doing whom at the dig site)!