You are all dying – all five of you – to know what this PhD program is like.  Based on my first week, this song pretty much sums it up.

There appears to be two sets of people.  The cool kids and the douchebags.  There’s also the haves (funding) and the have nots (me.  Not Funded.  Only me).  And since I’m not funded, the douchebags have decided that I’m somehow inferior.  There’s this tier system too.  It’s like Hogwarts if Hogwarts totally sucked.  There are three of us first-year students.  One’s not a bad guy but he’s really closely aligned with a douchebag (a.k.a. the other first year student – he’s the “you buy the book and I’ll borrow it” type).  They’ve ostracized me because either A:  I’m the only woman or B:  I’m not funded so I don’t spend my days fawning over some PhD and their research.  Whichever reason fits, I think they’re both going to be in for a surprise when the rubber meets the road and the actual performance starts to matter.  When that day comes and I AM funded, I’m going to have a tremendous problem.  It will take all my willpower not to tell the esteemed professor to make his own fucking copies.   “Trust me.  It’s not hard.  You just punch in the number here and push the big green button. “  Or:  “Dude, there’s this thing.  It’s called the internet.  I think it’s going to be big.  You could try just posting the electronic versions and letting the students print them.”

Guess what haters!  I applied only to this program.  I applied WELL after the deadline.  I got in anyway.  The only reason I’m not funded is because I didn’t want to wait for it.  I don’t intend to spend the full four years in the program either.  It’ll be three max.  Take it to the bank.  If I can multi-task well enough to get it done in two, that’s an ideal state.  I’m not in the PhD program for the opportunity to kiss ass or politic.  I am going to fight hard to maintain my no-pretenses demeanor.  No bullshit, no way.  I will build a workable network and move on to a lovely faculty position at a teaching-focused university.  Oh, and I’m not in the wrong field because I strongly prefer teaching to research.  That, good sir, you can go fuck yourself for.  Research makes me a better teacher rather than an obsolete relic of a human being with dated hypotheses and inaccurate knowledge sending unqualified students to the world because you don’t give a shit.  Go write your damn book.  I need the kindling.

Otherwise, school’s great!  How are things with you?

One thing that would bring me immense joy is for CS to reach an epidemic level but alas I fear it is moving the other way. Something has me very pissed off today and I need to share. Hang tight and give me a hell yeah when I’m done, okay?

We watch our nephews a couple nights a week. They are three and a half and very, very shy and not at all independent. Sometimes I call them socially retarded because they don’t answer a direct question and give you the infamous “deer in headlights” look when you talk to them. They get along with the boys fine, but apparently Sarge and I are pretty scary. I mean they don’t answer questions like “Would you like a drink?” or “Do you need to use the potty?” I guess I think a three year old should manage these responses especially when they see the adults asking them two days a week. I digress…

We have always had animals and our boys have always known what the dogs are and are not allowed to do. Our boys also have a very healthy relationship with our animals and understand that our beasts trust them and expect the boys to treat them with tender loving care – and share the popcorn.

Our boys have taken to a movie night on Sunday with the twins. They play downstairs until dinner and after dinner they’ll put in a movie while playing some more. Bedtime snack is popcorn because it is easy and if they make a mess, my canine vacuum units take care of it. Well, Sunday night, my nephew had his popcorn and Champ was looking for him to share. Kid 1 didn’t want to share and his response to Champ’s polite inquiry was to hit him – and he admits that he hit Champ (the greatest dog ever) repeatedly and hard. So how did Champ respond? Champ bit him. Unfortunately, he broke the skin on the palm of his hand.

Being a mom with 20 years of experience as well as a former CNA, I have some knowledge of infection control and minor wound care, right? So I wash his hands (he can’t do this himself but I will not comment on that either) and treat the wound with Neosporin and a band-aid. This experience should be over. Maybe he needs the bandaid changed a few times and neosporin re-applied to prevent infection but I’m thinking that step did not occur after he returned to the care of his parents. So he develops some redness at the wound site and a red streak on his arm (could this have also come from his cat? or his own dog?). His parents’ first thought is Rabies. They call, not once but twice, asking if Champ is current on his shots. This pisses me off tremendously. Okay, I’m a broke bad dog owner, but he is scheduled for his next shots in April so he’s not current, but for a dog to get rabies, he needs to catch it from a rabid animal. He has no exposure to any animals other than my other damn dog and cat. Get serious. I don’t need this shit. I need a god-damned medal for biting my tongue when my nephew’s idiot mother asked me if I washed his hands before I put the band-aid on. I really wanted to say “No. I stuck it in the cat litter box thinking that, you know, litter would help the blood clot better. Was that a bad idea?”

Where’s my medal? Once I get that one I will command my prize for withholding comment on the fact that Kid 2’s name means a Sammurai who has dishonored his master and is now masterless. He’s adorable but I hope he never figures out what his name means. Every time I see him I think “Damn you’re cute, but your parents are morons.”