Quote of the Day

“I am literally bathing in Massengill.”
— Sweet Julie, talking about the perfect end to her perfect day when she realized that two of the most deplorable human beings in history are sitting in the office right beside her

Dear Mr. President

Dear Mr. Garrison,

Stop. You’re killing me.

I mean, I have to accept that you “know nothing” about how someone just got an eMBA out of thin air. After all, we’re “following the report.” The report says that you weren’t really involved. So, OK. Let’s just say for argument’s sake, you weren’t involved.

(Have you seen my oceanfront property in greater Dubuque, Iowa, by the way? It’s fantastic. E-mail me for a showing.)

I have to accept that for whatever reason, my football coach decided to run screaming from your university. It might have something to do with a meeting in August where you all played a rousing game of “Pissing Match,” but I could be wrong. I wasn’t there. I didn’t participate in the meeting.

(You’re just making it super easy for his lawyers at this point … I mean, holy crap, at this point, just hand them the lawsuit.)

I have to accept that WITHOUT INVOLVING THE ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT, you decide to give the basketball coach a lifetime contract.

(Everybody loves a winner, right? Especially if the winner’s “one of us.”)

I even have to accept that people find my degree tainted now. That I didn’t earn it. Nevermind the fact that my Dad isn’t even the governor of the local Moose Lodge. People want to lump me into it.

(Thanks for that, by the way. I’m just glad I got my new job out of state before anybody really cared or decided to call me on it. And even if they did … it’s OK. I have every bit of documentation needed to prove that I earned that degree.)

I have to accept that for whatever reason, the media in this state have given you, by and large, a total pass.

(You’re welcome.)

I don’t have to accept acknowledging you as the president of a college I poured my heart and soul into during the four years I was there. I don’t have to accept your political appointment as a great idea. I don’t even have to accept that the Board of Governors thinks you’re an alright guy.

You know what you have to accept, though?

You’re running that university into the ground so fast it’s all becoming a blur. One bad or questionable decision just fades right into another. You’ve turned it into a personal playground for you and your ego. Your sheer arrogance is making it impossible to stand behind a place that did nothing but prepare me for success.

So, really, Mr. Garrison. Stop it. Just stop it. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to end up pulling a Randy Moss on you and instead of saying I graduated from West Virginia University, I’m going to tell people I graduated from the University of New Martinsville.

Love you, mean it,
Me

At least it wasn’t this road trip …

I found this article this morning through our friends at FARK.com.

Two men. One Toyota Scion xB (ah, the xBox). Forty-eight states. Five days.

Doesn’t make the two trips to and from Maryland (one via Nashville) in two weeks seem so awful.

Could you do this? I don’t think I could. I love a road trip as much as the next guy, but I think this much time in an enclosed area with someone would be enough to freak me out. Serious, uncontrolled panic. But don’t think it’s not crossing my mind to try.

I’ll sleep when I’m dead

(That’s for you, Type Writer! Keeping it going!)

So, to quickly bring everybody BACK up to speed …

1. I start my new job in DC on May 26. I’m excited. It’s going to be quite an adventure. I was in the area this past weekend getting a new home base and I picked up my paper. I just already feel a tremendous sense of pride. I feel proud when I look at it. I straightened it up in the racks at Dunkin’ Donuts to make sure it looked presentable. (I’m a geek.)

2. Speaking of being in the area — housing secured. In scorched-earth, rapid-fire fashion, I’m now the proud resident of a spectacular two-bedroom apartment in Wynfield Park in College Park, Md. It’s a nice, gated community that has a pool and a 24-hour gym and a bunch of other things (like 9-foot ceilings and 6-foot windows) that make me happy. The apartment has a huge living room, a dining room, a gas fireplace, a wraparound balcony, giant bathtubs and they’re gonna let me hang my Man TV above the fireplace. It’s about five minutes (or less) from the grocery store, directly across the street from an IKEA and really nice little shopping center with new townhouses, close to a pharmacy (because I’m perpetually sick). It’s about 5 miles from the closest Target and 6 miles from the nearest Wal-Mart (yeah, I check these things). I’m willing to bet Sunday’s going to be spent trying to find these places quickly.

3. I haven’t started packing yet. Hell, I haven’t even really secured the movers. Note to self …

4. Inky and Walter are making the move, too, even though my Mom suggested that I donate Walter to a “humane, no-kill shelter.” I’ll remember that when Mom turns 90 and can’t live on her own anymore.

5. My last span of work is going along pretty well. I feel rather lame duckish, but I guess I am lame duckish.

6. I’m sleeping a lot these days, which isn’t conducive to that “get stuff packed quickly.” I just feel drained. I get wiped out easily when major changes like moving happen. I also get wiped out easily when I’m under a lot of stress. Right now is one of those times.

7. Journey just started playing on the ’80s channel on AOL Radio. It’s the song “Don’t Stop Believin’.” It’s cheeseball, but maybe that’s what I needed to hear right now.

I think that’s about it … I’m not sure how much time I’ve got to devote to this between packing, cleaning and the rest. It’s going to be an incredibly hectic 18 days until that moving truck shows up. I know that much. So, if you’re inclined (and some of you are … you’ve shown it again and again) wish me a little luck. It’s a huge leap, but one I’m waiting eagerly to make.