we can all agree that the real world ruined everything. but tv execs didn't stop there. they followed with other trainwrecks like the bachelor, the bachelorette, american karaoke (and other variations), and a whole host of other "reality" shows. the process, obviously, was the tv land equivalent to throwing shit at a wall to see what would stick. sadly, most of it did.
as cheap, smutty, or ridiculous and as many of the american reality series may be (pointing directly at "National Bingo Night"...i still can't get over this one), the dutch have scored the coup d'gras in the battle for the least tasteful show. ever.
they call it the "big donor show." the creators must've used all their creative juices in comprising the premise, leaving nothing to come up with a catchy title. as in the states, there is a great debate over the merits (or lackthereof) of the show, with the producers claiming social benefit and critics--government included--claiming exploitation and smut.
the intent of the show, as you may already be aware, is to raise awareness of the shortage of donor organs in the nearly underwater, purple hazed country (perhaps they wouldn't need so many donor organs if they laid off the hash just a bit?). needless to say, the best way to draw attention to an issue like this is to create a reality show on which contestants vie for a much needed, life-saving organ...which is awarded by the family of the donor.
i'm not going to get off on some pro-american rant here, but when we have a national health crisis, such as diabetes, breast cancer, heart disease, etc., we organize marches, fundraisers, or just wait for jerry lewis to come on tv and tell us to give money. but when the dutch are running fatally low on organs they desperately need, they...create a fucking reality show? the only logical explanation is that they must've been high.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
A letter to my dogs...
who can't read this 'cause they're stupid. and they're dogs.
dear dogs,
i love you guys. i really do. you're my furry little companions who are always there waiting for me when i get home from work. you're always excited to see me even if i've been gone for all of five minutes. it makes me feel good. really, it does. it's cute the way you always want my attention and your unconditional love is very much appreciated. however, since we live in a relatively confined space, i must now do what i've been remiss in doing for years....setting ground rules. so, below is a list of new rules (real time style) that, if followed, will make all our lives much more enjoyable.
new rule: when i say "bedtime," i mean for me. not you. you are a dog, which means you cannot buy or own anything. including my bed. you should learn that when i kick you off the bed 3-6 times per night, that i don't want you there. please take this under advisement.
new rule: no whining. whining is a form of communication reserved for infant humans and 28 year old males that write blogs. since you have no manner in which to convey what you really want once you've gotten my attention, you must cease and desist from whining. forever.
new rule: stay the fuck out of the bathroom garbage. i know you're a fucking dog, so it's obviously beyond your realm of comprehension, but garbage cans are for refuse--things i've used that i no longer need. please stop removing tissues, floss, and toilet paper rolls from the bathroom and strewing them about my, er, our apartment.
new rule: please don't bark at EVERYTHING. seriously. it's okay for you to bark from time to time. you're dogs, it's what you do. barking at a passing cat or dog? fine. a human? not preferable, but tolerable nonetheless. but a plastic bag being blown across the road by the wind? are you kidding? why waste your breath barking at that? stupid little furry animal.
new rule: remember, you're on a leash. since we're talking about things outside, let's review proper etiquette for walks. you have a leash around your neck, which is connected to a handle held by my hands. if you're familiar with the anatomy song (the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc.) you'll recall that my hands are connected to my arms, which are held in place to my body by virtue of my shoulders. shoulders are vulnerable. so, when you take off running like you're fucking barbaro, shoulders tend to get hurt. what's worse is that you've been on a leash for walks for over 2 years....and you STILL can't remember this. please don't do that anymore.
new rule: grass is not a foodgroup. once you've stopped eating my garbage, we can move onto other things that shouldn't remain staples of your diet. for instance, grass and the things and substances that may be contained therein. one of you sniffs the grass incessantly, as if it'll give you a high like a magic marker. the other chomps at the grass with each step, emulating a grazing cattle, i suppose. have you not figured out yet that this is one of the primary causes of you having painful, nasty shits? do us all a favor and stick to the food i feed you. believe it or not, "dad" knows best.
new rule: socks belong on feet, not in your mouth. i'm not even sure how you manage to get ahold of my socks. they're either in a drawer or in a hamper with a lid. yet, somehow, i come home to find at least one of them in the living room, usually between your feet as you look up at me as if to say, "oh, you mean this sock?" actually, i mean all of them. don't eat my socks, god damnit.
and finally...
new rule: you are essentially brother and sister and incest is not permitted in colorado, even of the canine variety (okay, i made that part up. but still, gross). one of you i got from the pound. i rescued you, had you fixed, made sure you were a healthy, pretty puppy. i guess i did too well 'cause the other one of you, whom dog #1 found in a field, cannot hold back your primal needs when she's around. frankly, it's appalling. or maybe unnerving considering, well, you don't have any manhood left because you were fixed too. look, i know all about sexual frustration and i know that you guys are the reason we have the term "doggy style." but please, do your human a favor and keep it in your pants. er, keep it in your fur. enjoy the fact you have company when i'm not around; you have someone to occupy you and to help get you into trouble. but when friends (or brothers and sisters) get sexually involved, nothing good can come out of it. just ask angelina jolie's brother.
dogs, following these simple rules will give us all better lives. i'll be much less tense around you, much less likely to blow up at you, and generally even nicer to you than i am right now. i think we can all agree on 2 things moving forward to improve our living arrangement: 1) you'll leave my stuff alone, as i'll leave yours and 2) let's leave the fucking to the humans. mmmkay?
dear dogs,
i love you guys. i really do. you're my furry little companions who are always there waiting for me when i get home from work. you're always excited to see me even if i've been gone for all of five minutes. it makes me feel good. really, it does. it's cute the way you always want my attention and your unconditional love is very much appreciated. however, since we live in a relatively confined space, i must now do what i've been remiss in doing for years....setting ground rules. so, below is a list of new rules (real time style) that, if followed, will make all our lives much more enjoyable.
new rule: when i say "bedtime," i mean for me. not you. you are a dog, which means you cannot buy or own anything. including my bed. you should learn that when i kick you off the bed 3-6 times per night, that i don't want you there. please take this under advisement.
new rule: no whining. whining is a form of communication reserved for infant humans and 28 year old males that write blogs. since you have no manner in which to convey what you really want once you've gotten my attention, you must cease and desist from whining. forever.
new rule: stay the fuck out of the bathroom garbage. i know you're a fucking dog, so it's obviously beyond your realm of comprehension, but garbage cans are for refuse--things i've used that i no longer need. please stop removing tissues, floss, and toilet paper rolls from the bathroom and strewing them about my, er, our apartment.
new rule: please don't bark at EVERYTHING. seriously. it's okay for you to bark from time to time. you're dogs, it's what you do. barking at a passing cat or dog? fine. a human? not preferable, but tolerable nonetheless. but a plastic bag being blown across the road by the wind? are you kidding? why waste your breath barking at that? stupid little furry animal.
new rule: remember, you're on a leash. since we're talking about things outside, let's review proper etiquette for walks. you have a leash around your neck, which is connected to a handle held by my hands. if you're familiar with the anatomy song (the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc.) you'll recall that my hands are connected to my arms, which are held in place to my body by virtue of my shoulders. shoulders are vulnerable. so, when you take off running like you're fucking barbaro, shoulders tend to get hurt. what's worse is that you've been on a leash for walks for over 2 years....and you STILL can't remember this. please don't do that anymore.
new rule: grass is not a foodgroup. once you've stopped eating my garbage, we can move onto other things that shouldn't remain staples of your diet. for instance, grass and the things and substances that may be contained therein. one of you sniffs the grass incessantly, as if it'll give you a high like a magic marker. the other chomps at the grass with each step, emulating a grazing cattle, i suppose. have you not figured out yet that this is one of the primary causes of you having painful, nasty shits? do us all a favor and stick to the food i feed you. believe it or not, "dad" knows best.
new rule: socks belong on feet, not in your mouth. i'm not even sure how you manage to get ahold of my socks. they're either in a drawer or in a hamper with a lid. yet, somehow, i come home to find at least one of them in the living room, usually between your feet as you look up at me as if to say, "oh, you mean this sock?" actually, i mean all of them. don't eat my socks, god damnit.
and finally...
new rule: you are essentially brother and sister and incest is not permitted in colorado, even of the canine variety (okay, i made that part up. but still, gross). one of you i got from the pound. i rescued you, had you fixed, made sure you were a healthy, pretty puppy. i guess i did too well 'cause the other one of you, whom dog #1 found in a field, cannot hold back your primal needs when she's around. frankly, it's appalling. or maybe unnerving considering, well, you don't have any manhood left because you were fixed too. look, i know all about sexual frustration and i know that you guys are the reason we have the term "doggy style." but please, do your human a favor and keep it in your pants. er, keep it in your fur. enjoy the fact you have company when i'm not around; you have someone to occupy you and to help get you into trouble. but when friends (or brothers and sisters) get sexually involved, nothing good can come out of it. just ask angelina jolie's brother.
dogs, following these simple rules will give us all better lives. i'll be much less tense around you, much less likely to blow up at you, and generally even nicer to you than i am right now. i think we can all agree on 2 things moving forward to improve our living arrangement: 1) you'll leave my stuff alone, as i'll leave yours and 2) let's leave the fucking to the humans. mmmkay?
Monday, May 21, 2007
Might as Well be Walking on the Sun
how i came to realize that i'm an idiot:
saturday morning, 8:10am
j: nice shot dude! you're nuttin' that club today.
me: yeah, not bad. fuck, it's hot already? it's not even 9am yet.
j2: it's gonna get hotter. good thing we have carts and good thing i'm mexican....i'm used to this shit.
j: you should try going to vietnam in the summer. talk about fucking hot.
me: why the hell would i go there in the summer? that's just gluttony. and you both suck for not being white. buy me a drink.
(after 5 holes...)
me: look at my fucking hat. it's drenched already and it's hotter than a slave ship out here!
j: must suck to be white sometimes.
me: yeah, good thing i brought.....oh FUCK!
j2: you forgot your sunscreen didn't you?
me: yeah.
j2: how long have you lived out here?
me: almost 3 years.
j2: almost 3 years and you still manage to forget sunscreen? idiot. you're gonna fry.
me: probably.
j: that sucks for you, dude. lemme see. (sees my red neck) holy shit, man, you're gonna be in pain for a while.
me: that bad?
j: no, i always say "holy shit" when something isn't that bad. i'd recommend not showering the rest of the weekend. you're like fire-engine red and a shower is gonna hurt like a mofo!
me: sweet. this happens every summer out here. it's like my memory is reset over the winter and i always manage to get torched at the beginning of the summer.
j +j2: stupid white boy idiot mother fucker. (smack me simultaneously on the back of the neck.
me: (sigh).
saturday morning, 8:10am
j: nice shot dude! you're nuttin' that club today.
me: yeah, not bad. fuck, it's hot already? it's not even 9am yet.
j2: it's gonna get hotter. good thing we have carts and good thing i'm mexican....i'm used to this shit.
j: you should try going to vietnam in the summer. talk about fucking hot.
me: why the hell would i go there in the summer? that's just gluttony. and you both suck for not being white. buy me a drink.
(after 5 holes...)
me: look at my fucking hat. it's drenched already and it's hotter than a slave ship out here!
j: must suck to be white sometimes.
me: yeah, good thing i brought.....oh FUCK!
j2: you forgot your sunscreen didn't you?
me: yeah.
j2: how long have you lived out here?
me: almost 3 years.
j2: almost 3 years and you still manage to forget sunscreen? idiot. you're gonna fry.
me: probably.
j: that sucks for you, dude. lemme see. (sees my red neck) holy shit, man, you're gonna be in pain for a while.
me: that bad?
j: no, i always say "holy shit" when something isn't that bad. i'd recommend not showering the rest of the weekend. you're like fire-engine red and a shower is gonna hurt like a mofo!
me: sweet. this happens every summer out here. it's like my memory is reset over the winter and i always manage to get torched at the beginning of the summer.
j +j2: stupid white boy idiot mother fucker. (smack me simultaneously on the back of the neck.
me: (sigh).
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Side-Walk
n. path for pedestrians on the side of a street.
that's right, the sidewalk is meant for walking. go figure. so, why then must you use the sidewalk as your personal bike lane? you're an adult. you should be responsible. you should know the rules of the road by now. and should have been wearing a helmet. asshat.
you ride on the sidewalk with your shitty ass bike wearing headphones--a no-no in heavy traffic areas--and are riding in the wrong. fucking. direction. what's more, you have the gall to dismount said bike, remove said headphones from your pudgy, ugly ass head and incite an argument because--GASP--dogs want to chase after a moving vehicle( yeah, a bike is a vehicle, you silly trollop) that shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place!
i'm a cyclist. you're a heffer who somehow managed to find a bike that would support her immense weight. i follow the rules of the road. you don't even ride on it. get a brain, get a clue, or get of your god damned bike.
whore.
PS. in most cities, riding a bike on the sidewalk, provided you're not a child, is illegal and punishable by fines.
that's right, the sidewalk is meant for walking. go figure. so, why then must you use the sidewalk as your personal bike lane? you're an adult. you should be responsible. you should know the rules of the road by now. and should have been wearing a helmet. asshat.
you ride on the sidewalk with your shitty ass bike wearing headphones--a no-no in heavy traffic areas--and are riding in the wrong. fucking. direction. what's more, you have the gall to dismount said bike, remove said headphones from your pudgy, ugly ass head and incite an argument because--GASP--dogs want to chase after a moving vehicle( yeah, a bike is a vehicle, you silly trollop) that shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place!
i'm a cyclist. you're a heffer who somehow managed to find a bike that would support her immense weight. i follow the rules of the road. you don't even ride on it. get a brain, get a clue, or get of your god damned bike.
whore.
PS. in most cities, riding a bike on the sidewalk, provided you're not a child, is illegal and punishable by fines.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Tall Glass of Milf
i live next to the rich area of denver. the boulevard is really what separates the haves from the have-nots or almost beens. but, since we're in such close proximity, we do share several things...like target.
the target by my place is reknowned for good looking women. college aged, middle aged, almost old aged. you name it, we've got em. and they're hot. i went there today to pick up a few items, and while standing in line my gaze was met by two super milfs. i noticed many more as i was walking through the store, so many so that i nearly forgot to recognize all the cutie little college girls running around too.
this brought up an interesting thought in my mind: why, all of a sudden (within the past year), have i found myself much more attracted to hot mommies than sultry college coeds or young professionals? sure, i still turn my head at the sight of smokin' hot blonde that just came from the gym. but my eyes have gravitated, inexplicably, toward the mommies of the world. i'm not old by any stretch, nor am i "middle aged", AND i hate kids. those 3 qualifications alone should mandate that i gawk needlessly only at the girls my age or younger (not YOUNGER (gross), but younger as in a couple of years or so).
i chalk it up to the fantasy of the whole thing. ya know, the mrs. robinson syndrome, if you will. obviously i choose to date girls closer to my age, but there's just something more mystifying (sometimes) to me about a hot mom than there is about a fit 20-something. i hope it's not part of the, um, maturation process. nor do i hope it signifies that it's time to look to the older crowd for a relationship. that'd suck.
i guess the only real explanation is the simplest. the deli man spiked my food again with a magic potion to direct my attention to milfs so as to eliminate me from his competition pool. that must be it. curse you, deli man.
the target by my place is reknowned for good looking women. college aged, middle aged, almost old aged. you name it, we've got em. and they're hot. i went there today to pick up a few items, and while standing in line my gaze was met by two super milfs. i noticed many more as i was walking through the store, so many so that i nearly forgot to recognize all the cutie little college girls running around too.
this brought up an interesting thought in my mind: why, all of a sudden (within the past year), have i found myself much more attracted to hot mommies than sultry college coeds or young professionals? sure, i still turn my head at the sight of smokin' hot blonde that just came from the gym. but my eyes have gravitated, inexplicably, toward the mommies of the world. i'm not old by any stretch, nor am i "middle aged", AND i hate kids. those 3 qualifications alone should mandate that i gawk needlessly only at the girls my age or younger (not YOUNGER (gross), but younger as in a couple of years or so).
i chalk it up to the fantasy of the whole thing. ya know, the mrs. robinson syndrome, if you will. obviously i choose to date girls closer to my age, but there's just something more mystifying (sometimes) to me about a hot mom than there is about a fit 20-something. i hope it's not part of the, um, maturation process. nor do i hope it signifies that it's time to look to the older crowd for a relationship. that'd suck.
i guess the only real explanation is the simplest. the deli man spiked my food again with a magic potion to direct my attention to milfs so as to eliminate me from his competition pool. that must be it. curse you, deli man.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Requiem for a Dream
question: what is the chemical in food that causes insanely vivid, impossible, and often freakish dreams?
answer: i have no clue, but whatever it is, there's an abundance of it in whatever i've been eating. in fact, i'd venture a guess that i'm taking in about 3 times the daily recommended allowance of "it."
last night i dreamt (for the second time) that i'd returned to my college town and couldn't get out. almost "hotel california-ish" in it's you can never leave theme. i was so desperate to get out of there (in real life) that a prolonged return would be my equivalent to purgatory. ugh. thankfully i woke up, but i'm sure when i visit dreamland again, i'll still be stuck in ypsisucky.
of course, being stuck in a ghetto podunk town (yes, i'm aware of the oxymoronic qualities of this assessment. you really have to go there to see for yourself) pales in comparison to being convicted of murder. i'm fuzzy on the details of that dream, but i know that i was sentenced to life in prison...at OZ (see, i told you it's fucked up).
naturally, the murder conviction dream was only slightly less palatable than the animal abuser/cruelty one. that one actually made me physically ill. in fact, i woke up mid-dream because i was so nauseated by the imagery.
and what dream sequence would be complete, speaking of imagery, without a jaunt through a grand canyon-like landscape while flying on a pink dinosaur with wings? never ending story anyone? cripes.
so, to recap, in the past few weeks i've been stranded in a town i hate, convicted of murder, abused puppies, kittens and horses, and flown on pink dinosaurs with wings through a fanciful landscape. there MUST be something in my food. makes me want to stop eating. or sleeping. or both. i bet it's that damned deli kid.
answer: i have no clue, but whatever it is, there's an abundance of it in whatever i've been eating. in fact, i'd venture a guess that i'm taking in about 3 times the daily recommended allowance of "it."
last night i dreamt (for the second time) that i'd returned to my college town and couldn't get out. almost "hotel california-ish" in it's you can never leave theme. i was so desperate to get out of there (in real life) that a prolonged return would be my equivalent to purgatory. ugh. thankfully i woke up, but i'm sure when i visit dreamland again, i'll still be stuck in ypsisucky.
of course, being stuck in a ghetto podunk town (yes, i'm aware of the oxymoronic qualities of this assessment. you really have to go there to see for yourself) pales in comparison to being convicted of murder. i'm fuzzy on the details of that dream, but i know that i was sentenced to life in prison...at OZ (see, i told you it's fucked up).
naturally, the murder conviction dream was only slightly less palatable than the animal abuser/cruelty one. that one actually made me physically ill. in fact, i woke up mid-dream because i was so nauseated by the imagery.
and what dream sequence would be complete, speaking of imagery, without a jaunt through a grand canyon-like landscape while flying on a pink dinosaur with wings? never ending story anyone? cripes.
so, to recap, in the past few weeks i've been stranded in a town i hate, convicted of murder, abused puppies, kittens and horses, and flown on pink dinosaurs with wings through a fanciful landscape. there MUST be something in my food. makes me want to stop eating. or sleeping. or both. i bet it's that damned deli kid.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
European Vacation
i'm not much of a PBS guy, but i must rave about "rick steve's europe" series on the free channel. yeah, he's geeky, pretty bland, and surprisingly married, but his shows are incredibly informative and interesting. they're chock full of interesting historical tidbits about the location he's in, which is often off the beaten path.
obviously, his show is 180 degrees from E!'s "wild on" series, but that's the charm of the show. it's simple, cheaply made, with no fancy, well, anything. it's great late night weekend viewing (check your local listings). i now have a jones to hit tuscany, florence, venice, certain places in switzerland and a few locales in germany. all because of mr. boring steve's. thanks rick!
obviously, his show is 180 degrees from E!'s "wild on" series, but that's the charm of the show. it's simple, cheaply made, with no fancy, well, anything. it's great late night weekend viewing (check your local listings). i now have a jones to hit tuscany, florence, venice, certain places in switzerland and a few locales in germany. all because of mr. boring steve's. thanks rick!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Movie review
Disturbia....in a hundred words or lesscomedic beginning. charming, witty. shia lebouf is an up and coming star with tremendous character flexibility. carrie ann moss, hot mommy. dad dies. sad and destructive. little neighbor kids annoying as hell. we all have them. new neighbor girl scorching hot. new neighbor guy creepy as hell. asian friend stereotypical, but uber funny. screams like a girl.
slasher/screamer movie not expected. plot reminiscent of “rear window.” very hitchcock-ish. not a word. doesn’t count. high intensity, seemingly never-ending drama. wrought with paranoia, which turns to truth. occam’s razor at its core.
perfect mix of comedy, horror, suspense, and thrills. Score: A-
word count: 100, not including "hitchcock-ish."Friday, May 11, 2007
FORE!
i played golf yesterday. "played" is really a loose term here. more accurately, i was on a golf course yesterday, swinging clubs, hitting a ball, and then going off on an adventure to find said ball. actually, it was like a search party come to think of it. "JY, search party of 3. your ball is lost."
god, it was awesome. i forgot, since i haven't played in over a year, just how fun it is to "spoil a good walk (screw you mark twain. you're an idiot. posthumously.). being out with the boys, discussing boy stuff and screaming at an inanimate object to do what you want may be the pinnacle of life. now i have the bug, but not the money. is there such a thing as whoring for golf? i'm not too proud and i'll do it. i swear i will.
oh yeah, hey summer, thanks for FINALLY coming. we've been expecting you. cheers everyone!
god, it was awesome. i forgot, since i haven't played in over a year, just how fun it is to "spoil a good walk (screw you mark twain. you're an idiot. posthumously.). being out with the boys, discussing boy stuff and screaming at an inanimate object to do what you want may be the pinnacle of life. now i have the bug, but not the money. is there such a thing as whoring for golf? i'm not too proud and i'll do it. i swear i will.
oh yeah, hey summer, thanks for FINALLY coming. we've been expecting you. cheers everyone!
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
It's early. So Shut the F*CK UP!
attention all gym members: there is a new policy in place effective immediately. if you are in the gym at or before 5am, you MUST SHUT THE FUCK UP.
i was at the gym at 4:45 this morning completing workout number 1 of the day (i'm currently in 2-a-day training for elephant rock ride, which is a mere 3 weeks away. between being injured, stressing over my stupid ass exam and our shitty spring weather, i needed some drastic measures to get ready). apparently the two college-aged chatty cathy's didn't get the memo. the ONE time i decide i'm not awake enough to listen to music while i'm working out, i get stuck next to these two broads, forced to listen to 30 minutes of incessant cackling, giggling and a shriek/laugh mix that sounded like something that may come from the serengetti.
hey broads, read the sign: if you're at the gym at or before 5am, you must SHUT THE FUCK UP. enjoy your "work-out."
i was at the gym at 4:45 this morning completing workout number 1 of the day (i'm currently in 2-a-day training for elephant rock ride, which is a mere 3 weeks away. between being injured, stressing over my stupid ass exam and our shitty spring weather, i needed some drastic measures to get ready). apparently the two college-aged chatty cathy's didn't get the memo. the ONE time i decide i'm not awake enough to listen to music while i'm working out, i get stuck next to these two broads, forced to listen to 30 minutes of incessant cackling, giggling and a shriek/laugh mix that sounded like something that may come from the serengetti.
hey broads, read the sign: if you're at the gym at or before 5am, you must SHUT THE FUCK UP. enjoy your "work-out."
Friday, May 04, 2007
I coulda been a contenda
update from yesterday...the test is over. it sucked. hard. i didn't do poorly, but i certainly don't believe my score reflects anything about me, other than the fact that i find math about the most useless discipline for a marketing guy. i did just above average, which is not what i am by any stretch. anyway, after some consideration and even a conversation or two with admissions reps at select schools (thanks for your advice, katz people), i'll taking it again come august. this time, however, i'll be fully prepared.
i wasn't ready for the onslaught of confusion. it was pyschological warfare, really. sure, it's one thing to have a grasp of the material, but all GMAT takers know going in that it's a computer adaptive test, meaning you get a harder question following a correct answer and an easier one following an incorrect answer. it is nearly impossible not to crawl inside your own head while taking the test and try to examine what must've happened on the last question. you realize, "shit, this is a hard question. i must've gotten the last one right," and thus you self impose even more pressure.
not to mention the prison-like accomodations. actually, the test center is quite nice. it's clean, updated and such. but it's ANYTHING but comforting or comfortable. in fact, it's just a cube farm, but with cameras overhead and a glass monitoring station behind. any time you need anything, anything at all, you must raise your hand and wait for the administrator to come help. for breaks, you must be escorted to and from your desk, stopping to have your fingerprint scanned upon entrance and exit.
all in all, it's a lot to take in. it's pretty overwhelming. oh yeah, then there's the test itself. so, next time (mid-late august) i'll be better prepared. not only will i study on my own--though not for 5 months this time--but i'll also be enrolling shortly in a prep class offered by DU (that's university of denver for those not living here. yes, i know, it's backwards. don't ask). i'd like to take a kaplan course, but at $1200 a pop, DU's $400 course is a better value. either way, i'll come out with a better score, i'm convinced of it, which will justify spending more $$ in the near term. right?
btw, anybody know where i can find descartes' grave? i'd like to piss on it. or exhume him and beat the hell of him.
i wasn't ready for the onslaught of confusion. it was pyschological warfare, really. sure, it's one thing to have a grasp of the material, but all GMAT takers know going in that it's a computer adaptive test, meaning you get a harder question following a correct answer and an easier one following an incorrect answer. it is nearly impossible not to crawl inside your own head while taking the test and try to examine what must've happened on the last question. you realize, "shit, this is a hard question. i must've gotten the last one right," and thus you self impose even more pressure.
not to mention the prison-like accomodations. actually, the test center is quite nice. it's clean, updated and such. but it's ANYTHING but comforting or comfortable. in fact, it's just a cube farm, but with cameras overhead and a glass monitoring station behind. any time you need anything, anything at all, you must raise your hand and wait for the administrator to come help. for breaks, you must be escorted to and from your desk, stopping to have your fingerprint scanned upon entrance and exit.
all in all, it's a lot to take in. it's pretty overwhelming. oh yeah, then there's the test itself. so, next time (mid-late august) i'll be better prepared. not only will i study on my own--though not for 5 months this time--but i'll also be enrolling shortly in a prep class offered by DU (that's university of denver for those not living here. yes, i know, it's backwards. don't ask). i'd like to take a kaplan course, but at $1200 a pop, DU's $400 course is a better value. either way, i'll come out with a better score, i'm convinced of it, which will justify spending more $$ in the near term. right?
btw, anybody know where i can find descartes' grave? i'd like to piss on it. or exhume him and beat the hell of him.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
GMATically Correct
tomorrow's the big day. seriously, i don't know if i put this much effort into all of my undergrad classes combined. but, tomorrow is GMAT day and i'm ready. i think. actually, i'm not so sure i'm ready. but since i'll be mid-test 12 hours from now, i guess i have to be ready for all intents and purposes.
it's weird that i'm nervous. i don't tend to get nervous very often or for very many reasons. except maybe if i have a gun pulled on me, or i'm interviewing for a position that's waayyyyy above my capabilities but that i really want. or, when i'm faced with an exam that schools claim isn't the be all, end all to their admissions process (when really we know it's a hugely significant factor). but i'm not normally nervous. especially when i know that if i don't do so hot the first time, i can take it again over the next couple of months. but i'm nervous. and ready. i think. maybe i'll get some sleep tonight. probably not, though. i don't sleep well anyway. it's okay. my brain functions better with little sleep and lots o' caffeine.
yeah, i'm ready. bring it.
**update to come tomorrow. fingers crossed it'll be above average news.
it's weird that i'm nervous. i don't tend to get nervous very often or for very many reasons. except maybe if i have a gun pulled on me, or i'm interviewing for a position that's waayyyyy above my capabilities but that i really want. or, when i'm faced with an exam that schools claim isn't the be all, end all to their admissions process (when really we know it's a hugely significant factor). but i'm not normally nervous. especially when i know that if i don't do so hot the first time, i can take it again over the next couple of months. but i'm nervous. and ready. i think. maybe i'll get some sleep tonight. probably not, though. i don't sleep well anyway. it's okay. my brain functions better with little sleep and lots o' caffeine.
yeah, i'm ready. bring it.
**update to come tomorrow. fingers crossed it'll be above average news.
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